Lady of the Horse
by TeleriMaiden
Summary: King Eomer is the last remaining royal family of Rohan and as king, felt it his responsibility to marry a lady from Rohan... eventhough his heart wishes for another...[Complete]
1. Chapter 1

_**Disclaimer:** The Lord of the Rings and the characters of the saga is property of JRR Tolkien and his descendents. I have no claims to any of the canon characters mentioned and no profit was made from the release of this story._

**Chapter One**

_The war of rings had ended and by the hands of two courageous hobbits and the last and final alliance of men and elves, the dark lord Sauron was finally defeated to never rise again. The darkness that griped middle earth was finally released and in its place were happiness, singing, and hope. A new era had dawn upon Middle Earth. The time of elves had ended and the age of men was beginning and in the __land__ of __Gondor__, the most majestic and powerful of all land to be owned by men, celebrations were in hand. King Elessar had returned to claim his throne, fulfilling the prophecy that Gondor will regain its full valor under him and with him, along with the blessings of Lord Elrond, keeper of the Vilya, Ring of Air and Lady Galadriel of the Light, keeper of the Nenya, the Ring of Adamant, he also brought the most beautiful jewel to ever grace the lands of Adar since the Silmarils, Arwen Udomiel as his wife and Queen of Gondor and all the lands unified under it. Friends from far and wide had been invited to attend the wedding, and among them were none other than the fellowship, and the two lords of men that had fought fearlessly by his side, King Éomer of the Mark and Prince Imrahil of Dol Amroth._

It was three days before the wedding and two days after inauguration of Aragorn as King Elessar of Gondor. Lord Faramir had been installed as the Steward of Gondor and Prince of Ithilien and Lady Éowyn of the Mark as his betrothed. Things were pleasant in the halls of King Elessar's palace and at this moment of the story, that is where we find them, friends and lovers seated tranquilly in each other's company quite full from the peacock wonderfully served by the experts of Gondor's kitchen.

"Your majesty, your chefs have indeed out done themselves, I fear that I may never leave my chair again," Prince Imrahil said, falling back into his chair a placid smile on his lips.

"I agree with Imrahil. Aragorn, a few more days like this and I may need two horses to carry me back to Rohan," added King Éomer. His words were greeted with laughter. Aragorn looked at the two and shook his head.

"Aye, that would be most unfortunate. So be it, tomorrow early dawn, I challenge the King of Mark and Prince of Dol Amroth to a battle of swords," said Aragorn, his face serious, but the light in his eyes betraying his words. The two lords turned an evil eye on the new King.

"You are cruel, Aragorn. You have put us in a tight corner. To not accept would strip us of any dignity in front of the fair ladies present and to accept would probably land us in the house of healing," grumbled Éomer darkly, but received only a smirk from Elessar.

"I am only glad my daughter is not here to witness her father waylaid so helplessly by a roasted peacock," said Imrahil, his complacent mood not the least swayed by his king's challenge. His words caused another war hero to suddenly perk up and turn away from the eyes of his love.

"Uncle, have you sent word to Dol Amroth of our victory?" came the calm voice of the Steward. Imrahil looked at his nephew and couldn't help but smile as he watched the man glow under the love of Lady Éowyn.

"Lothíriel would have my hide if I had forgotten. Aye, a messenger left but two days ago. I believe the message should have reached her by now," said Prince Imrahil, his smile growing broader at the thought of finally seeing his daughter again. It had nearly broken his heart to part with her, to see her hold back her tears and stay strong for him, neither one of them knowing if they'll ever see each other again. But Faramir was not finished. In fact, his face clouded a little.

"Uncle, are you expecting Lothíriel, then?' he asked. His uncle shook his head.

"Nay, I have asked her to wait for my arrival, at the least," he replied. Faramir then broke into a small grin.

"Well, I believe you should then," he replied simply. This time it was his uncle's turn to look confuse. Everybody else had focused between the two, trying to decipher Faramir's cryptic words. Éowyn too looked wonderingly at Faramir, but he did not take his eyes away from Imrahil. He watched the confusion from his uncle's face clear to be replaced with shock and then horror. With a start he leapt up from his chair his full stomach completely forgotten.

"My King, I must go," said Imrahil and made a move that was part bowing and part running out the door. But Aragorn stood up and placed a halting arm on his friend.

"Imrahil, what is the matter? Is your daughter in trouble? Do you require assistance? Faramir what is the meaning of your words?" asked Aragorn, his voice concerned. At his words of offering assistance, Éomer too stood up. He and Imrahil had become tight friends and he would travel to the ends of Middle Earth if his friend required it. But Imrahil shook his head.

"Nay, she isn't… at least I pray she isn't," said Imrahil hoping that was sufficient enough for Aragorn to release him but Aragorn held fast. Sighing loudly, Imrahil turned his gaze to the windows; one of them occupied by Legolas, for the elf had seen something in the far distant but needed confirmation.

"My nephew has just reminded me that I do not have the fortune of siring a docile daughter," said Imrahil. Aragorn and Éomer exchanged confused looks and Faramir suddenly released a short laugh before covering his mouth.

"Pray you do not share my fate, boy," warned Imrahil forebodingly to Faramir then turned to his two friends.

"I have a feeling that my daughter is on her way here, most probably unescorted and unarmed," he finished, his tone taking a desperate turn as the thought rushed through his head. He had to leave immediately and perhaps he would be able to meet her half way. Aye, that girl would one day be the death of him!

"Then we must hurry. We may still meet her half way and before any dangers crosses her path," said Gimli, speaking for the first time. The four hobbits also quickly got to their feet. Faramir still smiling got to his feet as well. But Legolas's words stopped them.

"Prince Imrahil, does your daughter share your elven traits?" he asked. Imrahil nodded. Yes, his daughter was the splitting image of his forefathers, and in some ways the elven blood was stronger in her than him.

"Then I bid you gentlemen to remain in your seats as she has arrived and happily I say she is escorted by two soldiers and looks to be safe," he said his tone more than amused. Imrahil rushed to stand beside the elf. He just barely made out three horse ridden figures galloping through the seven gates of Gondor, and no doubt the rider leading the trio with her midnight black hair streaming behind her and her dress hiked up dangerously above her ankles was his daughter, Princess Lothíriel of Dol Amroth. Aragorn and Éomer came to stand next to Imrahil and Legolas.

"Prince Legolas speaks the truth. She is here and all we can do is wait," he said tiredly but with immense relief.

"Then come my lords, return to your seats. It is a beautiful thing, a daughter's reunion with her father," came the gentle voice of Arwen, masterfully disguising her pain of never being able to see her father again. All except Imrahil returned to their seats and Aragorn quietly whispered something to a servant standing ready to do the king's bidding. The man nodded and left the room. Imrahil followed the exit of the servant and left his gaze there, anticipating the arrival of his daughter. Mentally he was imagining how he would punish his stubborn daughter for acting impulsively and putting herself in danger and not to mention scaring ten years of his life. But when a tall lady clad in sea blue with matching eyes and a tan complexion rushed into the room, all thoughts of reprimands disappeared and with a huge smile he opened his arms to her. A strangled cry escaped her trembling lips before she flung herself into his arms and threatened to cut his breathing ability by hugging him tightly. He tightened his grip around her waist and kissed the top of her head. He could feel wet marks at the base of his neck and pulled her so he could look at her face. Her eyes were wet but her jaw did not tremble. A weakling she was not, and she was his pillar of strength for the past dark days.

"Father, you are well," she said before hugging him again which her father returned willingly.

"Yes, I am well. My daughter, why could you have not waited to join me? Or at least assembled a larger group?" he said softly, not a trace of anger in his voice. Now that she was safe in his arms, he looked on her act with amusement.

Lothíriel buried her face deep in her father's tunic. She inhaled his scent, it was the smell of the sea and she was grateful to smell it again. All the nights staying awake in fear and anxiety and the horror that clutched her heart every time a messenger sought her audience seeped away with the receding darkness. Her shoulders felt light with the lifting of her burden. And she was more than relieved that her father did not appear angered by her sudden and risky arrival.

"Do not be angry, father. I couldn't wait. When I heard you had appeared victorious and were well, I had to come," she replied lifting her head to look at him. He smiled and kissed her on her forehead. She closed her eyes and relished the feel of his fatherly love. Suddenly, she became aware of the situation and more than naught, that she had entered the realm of another lord without asking for leave. She quickly pulled away and quickly scanned the head table, but with the fleeting glance she couldn't figure out to whom her allegiance belonged too. Was it the dark headed man with his wise eyes and powerful complexion or was it the blond man whose hair flowed strong and shiny down his back and the traces of stubbles lining his masculine jaw? She couldn't decide for they both seem to emanate a sense of power and leadership. But her father put her fears to rest.

"King Elessar, I present to you my daughter, Princess Lothíriel of Dol Amroth. Lothíriel, our lord and liege, King Elessar," said Imrahil, presenting his daughter to the king. Lothíriel curtsied low.

"King Elessar, I am but your humble servant and I would ask for your forgiveness for my unexpected arrival, I bear no hostile feelings, and hope that I have not offended," she said demurely, her eyes fixed on a point at his feet.

"Princess Lothíriel, no apologies are in due. I understand and am glad that you are safe, and most assuredly, your presence is more than welcomed here in Minas Tirinth," said Aragorn, trying to make the younger girl look at him. But she kept her eyes fixed to the ground.

"Thank you for your kind words, my King, you are as kind as songs have described, if not kinder," she said and this time, she looked up into his face. A strong face with justice in his eyes. _Gondor will heal under his rule_, she thought. She was then introduced to the future queen of Gondor and had momentarily lost her ability for speech as she beheld the beauty of Udomiel.

"My lady, I am honored," she said, and curtseyed again. _I am the image of an orc next to her_, she thought. As if sensing her thoughts, Arwen laughed and placed a chaste kiss onto her redden cheeks.

"Your father speaks greatly of your beauty, I am honored to see it myself," she said and Lothíriel's cheeks redden even more, but she returned her future queen's smile. Imrahil gave her a doting look before taking her hand into his.

"Daughter, here, I wish you to meet a man blessed with strength and great loyalty. If it weren't for him guarding my back, I would be but a lost cause," her father's voice broke into her mind. She turned to him and saw him standing next to the blond man, who if she was not mistaken, had turned a shade of pink.

"Éomer, my daughter Lothíriel. Daughter, King Éomer of the Mark," he said. Once again, she dropped into a low curtsy.

"King Éomer, I thank you for looking after my father and you have my undying gratitude. If you are to ever require my assistance, please do not be hesitant to ask, and even then I doubt I would be able to repay you," she said, her voice trembling slightly. She wanted to say more but couldn't trust herself to not burst into tears. Much to his sister's amusement, Éomer blushed harder and only managed to stammer a quiet 'you're welcome' and 'that won't be necessary'. Lothíriel looked at him and smiled and he smiled back.

"Cousin, are you so in awe of the two kings that I am no longer important to you and you have just passed me by without a second glancing?" said another voice behind her. Lothíriel's eyes widen. She would recognize that voice in her sleep. She turned to face Faramir, who grinned at her. Forgetting that she was supposed to be a princess of breeding and decorum, she bounced off her feet and into his arms, nearly knocking him over in the process.

"Faramir! How can you say such a thing!" she cried and pulled away from him although not releasing her hold on him. He too, in response kept his arms around her waist. The two smiled contentedly at each other with a familiarity bred from many years of spending time together. However, they were interrupted by a soft yet stern cough. Faramir turned and much to Lothíriel's surprise his face lit up like never before. She turned to the lady standing next to him and immediately recognized the glint in her eyes. It was the same glint so many other ladies of the court had given her if she so much as talked to their men. Quickly she released her hold of him and took a small step away. Faramir chuckled at the two ladies before wrapping Éowyn's fingers around his forearm.

"Riel, this Éowyn," he introduced the two ladies.

"His betrothed," she added her tone a little hard. Unknowingly to anyone and themselves, Éomer and Imrahil held their breaths. Éowyn was known to guard well what was hers and Lothíriel was _not_ known to respond well to cold tones. But Lothíriel held no offense. It wasn't this son Denethor that held her heart.

"Then we are almost like sisters, for Faramir is dear as a brother to me," she said brightly and engulfed the other lady into a hug and when they pulled away, Éowyn, surprised at first, was smiling, Lothíriel's words placating her and both Imrahil and Éomer sighed with relief. Lothíriel turned a cheeky grin to her cousin.

"So it seems cousin, you're lone days are over. You can no longer hide in your forest anymore but must now join the company of people," she teased. Faramir just laughed at her words.

"And to what does Boromir say to all this? And where is Boro..." she stopped in the process of turning. Her elation dropped in a sickening thud at her feet and she felt like someone had thrown bucket of freezing water over her head. She shivered and it seemed in her eyes that the world had just gotten a little dimmer. No one will ever know what Boromir has to say. But she turned back to Faramir with a calm face.

"Forgive me, cousin. I … it…" her words began to tremble and to her horror her cousin's face blurred as tears filled up her eyes. She didn't protest when Faramir pulled her into his arms and rocked her gently, whispering comforting words into her ears. She clung to him and the tears that she had tried so hard to keep from falling began to fall freely down her cheeks. Her chest tightened in pain and in her mind visions of Boromir laughing and teasing her flashed by. She would never see him smile again. Her shoulders racked violently as she sobbed into his tunic.

At the table, Merry and Pippin held their heads down, silently saying a prayer for their departed friend. They would never forget how brave Boromir had been and how he had saved their lives at the cost of his own. And because of that, the pain or gratefulness would never leave them. In the eyes of the two hobbits, no one was braver or better than their friend Boromir. And they weren't the only ones. Each and everyone of the Fellowship, even Frodo, regretted the passing of Boromir and in their hearts, they carried him always.

Eventually, Lothíriel ceased her crying and pulled away from her cousin.

"Forgive my sudden outburst. I couldn't bring it in me to believe he was gone but now standing here, reality has told otherwise. I could never mourn him properly before as there was too much threat that kept me constantly occupied," she began to the crowd. Aragorn stepped forward and took her hands in his.

"We share your sentiments, lady Lothíriel. Boromir was a dear friend to all of us, and we too mourn his loss. So please don't apologize for your grief but instead allow us to share it with the hope of easing the pain a little," he said and through her tears that had resumed its flow, Lothíriel smiled at her king and there and then in her heart pledged herself to him and willing go to the fall of Gondor if asked. A tugging at her skirts made her look down to the two men standing no taller than her waist. If it weren't for the aged lines on their faces and the grief and experience in their eyes she would have easily mistaken them for children.

"My Lady, our words may only cause you more grief, but we think you should know that Boromir fell defending us. He died slaying no less than 20 orcs by himself," said the one who had pulled her skirt.

"Aye, he saved our lives," said the other next to him. She knelt down and looked at them. It was written so plainly on their faces of their sadness. And because of this she braved her heart and gave them each a smile.

"Your words have not caused me any pain, little ones. Instead, you have eased my pain a little, for now I know that Boromir died as he had wished too, defending those dear to his heart. I believe he would not have had it any other way," she said. The two smiled at her before one of them suddenly bowed.

"Oh, my lady, forgive us, I am Merry and this is Pippin. Over there are our fellow hobbits, Frodo Baggins and Samwise Gamgee," he said. Lothíriel shook hands and traded some words with the four, and unknowingly to them, their simplicity and care for life cheered her up tremendously.

"And have you forgotten about us, little hobbits?" a gruff voice interrupted them and Lothíriel found herself looking in the piercing eyes of a dwarf.

"Gimli of Moria at your service my lady," said the dwarf bowing low. Lothíriel returned it with a curtsy.

"Tis a pleasure Master Gimli, and I am greatly honored," she replied and the shorter man glowed at her. Then another being came to stand by him.

"And I am Legolas of Greenwood the Great," he said, bowing at her. Lothíriel curtsied again but could not tear her eyes away from him. _He is so handsome_, she gushed inwardly. She had met elves before, as her father was of that line although many times removed, but not once had she beheld such fair beauty as this one. Even the Rivendell twins held no torch to him.

"My lady, the blood of elves flows strongly within you. I do not sense much in your father but in you it is overwhelming," he said staring intently at her. Lothíriel blushed under his gaze.

"Yes, I have been told that. But I must tell you, my elven blood only ends with the physical features for inside I have neither the wisdom of the elder nor the grace of one. I am very much the race of man, clumsy feet and all" she said. Legolas looked at her a little more before taking her hand and kissing the back of it murmuring so only she could hear,

"But never have such clumsy feet looked so pretty," and Lothíriel blushed harder. Imrahil, who had watched the exchange, was not at all amused with the elf. He admitted he would trust the elf with his life, but he drew a limit when it came to his daughter. Well, if he were to really admit it, he drew a line at any male, man or elf when it came to Lothíriel. Unknown to him, Aragorn had read his friends facial expression and felt obliged to prevent Legolas from being the receiving end of a Dol Amroth blade.

"Princess Lothíriel, I'm sure the trip from Dol Amroth had been hard. Perhaps you would like to freshen up before dinner?" asked Aragorn, ignoring Éomer's strangled look. Although he understood the King of Mark's perdition, after that heavy lunch, the thought of eating anytime soon send his stomach into a queasy frenzy.

"Yes Lothíriel, go freshen up and have a change of clothes. You look more like the daughter of a peasant than a princess," said Imrahil, his tone stern and brow furrowed, but it was said out of love rather than disdain. However, instead of doing as she was told, Lothíriel looked around her, her eyes wide and laced with despair while her face clouded in embarrassment.

Oh, she is in much trouble. How could she have forgotten to bring a change of clothes? A princess who did not have anything suitable to wear. She has shamed her father and her country in front of all these strangers. _Think fast Riel, an excuse_. But no words came to her mind, instead all she could do was look around, no doubt resembling a lost lamb.

"Lothíriel?" her father's voice broke into her thoughts. She looked up at him, about to explain and apologize… again, she seemed to be doing a lot of that ever since she got to Gondor, when Lady Arwen got up to her feet.

"Of course, lady Lothíriel, you do not know where your chambers are. May I offer my assistance and show you to your room?" said Lady Arwen, smiling at Lothíriel. Lothíriel sighed and could have kissed Lady Arwen's feet there and then. She nodded and flashed a grateful smile.

"If you would excuse us, come lady Lothíriel," said Lady Arwen, curtseying beautifully to the others before leading Lothíriel out of the hall. Once the two were out of hearing range, Lothíriel turned to Arwen.

"My Lady, I thank you for coming to my rescue. I am ashamed to say that in my haste to see my father, I had forgotten the need to bring extra clothes," she said, her head down. What _must lady Arwen think of me?_ She thought. But Arwen tipped her face up so they were looking at each other.

"There is nothing to be embarrassed about. Your intentions were noble and it came from your love for your father. Never ask for forgiveness for loving so much and so hard, that the rest of the world doesn't seem important. Because they aren't," she said and her words along with her comforting words soothed Lothíriel's turbulent being. She nodded and smiled.

"Thank you. My lady wouldn't by any chance know a seamstress with dresses to spare would you?" she asked meekly. Lady Arwen turned once more to her and gave her a one over.

"I have something better in mind. This way," she said and began walking in a different direction, a sense of purpose giving pace to her steps. Despite her long legs, Lothíriel had to run a little to keep up and silently she marveled at the grace of Lady Arwen. She had half a mind to ask the lady if she was walking or floating. Suddenly Lady Arwen stopped in front of a set of oak doors, carved with the skill of the elves of old. Lady Arwen pushed aside the door and beckoned for Lothíriel to follow her in. Once inside, Lothíriel gasped at the beauty of the room. She felt like she had entered another realm. The motif was of floral and silk a contrast to the hard stone outside.

"Lothíriel, come," said Lady Arwen from behind another set of doors. Lothíriel joined Arwen and gazed into the cupboard. There were so many clothes hanging that she wondered it didn't spill out of the doors. And she could swear that all the colors known to man were in that closet. She couldn't help but touch one of the fabrics. It was like water in her hands, smooth and silky as it slipped through her fingers. The dress was the color of the sea, not like the one she was wearing, but it was the color of when shallow meets deep, not green yet not deep blue and not turquoise either.

"You have wonderful taste Lady Lothíriel, but I do not think it would be appropriate for dinner. I suggest this instead," said Lady Arwen and she reached deep into the cupboard to draw out a lavender dress. It was of simple cutting, with a wide mouth sleeve and a low waist, but like the dress Lothíriel had touched earlier, it was of the finest silk and that itself gave beauty to the simple dress.

"I'm afraid I do not understand? Is my lady asking my approval for what she will wear tonight?" asked Lothíriel truly confused. Why was Lady Arwen asking her for her opinion? Lothíriel almost had no fashion sense, and would be a mess if it weren't for her patient lady in waitings. Lady Arwen laughed, and music filled up the room. Lothíriel could've sworn the room lit up when she had laughed.

"No, I am not asking you to choose a dress for me, but I would like Lady Lothíriel to choose a dress for herself," said Lady Arwen. Lothíriel's eyes widen.

"No my lady, please I couldn't possibly wear one of your dresses. I thank you, Lady Arwen, but I would end up soiling it and it is such a beautiful dress," said Lothíriel slowly backing up towards the door. Arwen did not loose her smile and in fact seemed amused by Lothíriel's reluctance. Well, she wanted Lothíriel to wear her dress and that was it. She caught Lothíriel's arm and looped it in hers, holding the dress in the other arm. With the two held tightly in her arms, she left the room. Out of nowhere two other ladies appeared. Lady Arwen exchanged words with them in Elvish and handed the dress to one of the lady.

"I have taken care of it all, Lady Lothíriel. Now I shall take you to your room where you shall have a much deserved rest," said Lady Arwen and her tone left no place for arguing. Not that Lothíriel could as she could feel her lips involuntarily clamp shut together. Finally, Lady Arwen led her into a bedroom. It wasn't as beautifully decorated as Lady Arwen's but it was still beautiful.

"You shall rest so that tonight you will be fresh to enjoy all Gondor can offer," said Arwen smiling at Lothíriel stunned look.

"Aye, thank you Lady Arwen, I am truly grateful to you. I would be lost if you hadn't helped me," said Lothíriel, curtsying low. To her surprise Lady Arwen pulled her up and hugged her tight.

"Sleep well," she said and in a blink she was gone leaving Lothíriel alone in the room. Fatigue washed over her and the two days of hard riding finally made their presence known. With a huge effort, Lothíriel dragged herself to the huge bed in the middle of the room. Slowly she laid her body to rest on the soft mattress; a voice somewhere in her head telling her to disrobe for the dirt on her clothes would soil the white sheets. But the minute her head touched the pillows, all thoughts left her and for the first time in ages, Lady Lothíriel was able to fall into a deep and peaceful sleep.

* * *

"Lady Lothíriel," a soft voice broke into her sleep and with a start Lothíriel sat up, her eyes wide with fright. Memories of the times when she had been woken up to receive news of more deaths and raids on her people came back with full force and she turned her frightened eyes to the lady in waiting hovering over her, expecting to hear the same from her. Instead, words of comfort were offered to her. 

"My Lady, it is only I Lissesül, Lady Arwen's maid. I have come to help you prepare for dinner, my lady," she said a warm smile on her lips. The words steadied Lothíriel's pounding heart and she remembered that it was over. The pain, the deaths, the war. She was safe and more importantly her father was safe. A sudden longing to see him overwhelmed her and she quickly got to her feet and allowed the handmaiden to wash and dress her. Her only complaint was when Lissesül wouldn't allow her to wear her hair the way she had always; practical and out of her face.

"My lady, you will be in the presence of the Lords of Middle Earth and the Steward of Gondor. I must insist that you present yourself worthy of your title," said Lissesül sternly. Lothíriel knew the truth of her words and grudgingly gave her consent. Only when Lissesül had completed her task, did she allow Lothíriel to look into the mirror. She smiled at what she saw. Arwen's dress had been a little tight especially at the top and because of her height, the neckline which would have been acceptable for Arwen was unacceptable for her as it exposed a little too much of the top of her breast. The dress also clung tightly to her narrow waist before flaring out around her hips, her curves accentuated even more by the low cut of the waist line. Only her sleeves were wide that the shape of her arms was hidden in its big folds. Her hair was pushed back from her hair, and secured with pearls clips (also from Arwen) and let loose down her back, in curls that bounced gracefully at her every move. Now she truly looked like the Princess of Dol Amroth.

"Lissesül you are a wonder. Even my father would not believe this is his daughter," she said wryly. She could just imagine the look on her father when he saw her. Especially with her low neckline and tight middle. _This_ _should indeed be interesting_.

"Thank you, your highness. I believe they are waiting for you at the King's parlor," said Lissesül. Lothíriel gave her one last smile and left her chambers. Lissesül had briefly directed her on how to get to the parlor so she was quite alright walking unescorted. And as she walked down the grand halls of King Elessar's palace, she couldn't help but notice the attention she was receiving from the soldiers. Oh yes, this should be very interesting.

* * *

Prince Imrahil downed another of Gondor's fine brewery before resuming his pacing. Aragorn looked at his friend with a raised eyebrow.

"Imrahil, cease your pacing you are giving me a headache," said Éomer, his words mirroring Aragorn's thoughts.

"Why don't you tell us news of Dol Amroth? You have spent nearly the entire afternoon with your two soldiers," said the young king again hoping it would placate his friend.

"Dol Amroth is doing well. News of our victory had raised the hopes of my people and fueled strength to my men. Our borders are more than protected and the lands safe again, and my sons are on their way home" he replied and a small smile flitted through his lips. It would be good to return home again.

"So what worries you?" asked Aragorn.

"It is Lothíriel. The two who escorted her informed me that she had taken off immediately after receiving news. All she brought was the cloth on her back and if the two men had not been fast in mounting their horses, she would have arrived here alone," said Imrahil sighing loudly. He loved Lothíriel very much and her strength and individuality only made him adore her even more, but there were occasions when he wished she was the sweet tempered princess, like those he had heard so much in folklores.

"It is a dream for me to present my daughter to the King of Gondor one day and now that the day has arrived and not only to the Gondor king but also the King of Mark, my daughter looks like a Lady of the Swine and not the Lady of Dol Amroth," he continued, rolling his eyes. Aragorn and Éomer laughed at that.

"I would not say that Imrahil. Her fast ride here had given a glow to her cheeks and light in her eyes. It will take more than soiled clothes to mar her beauty," said Éomer then ducked his head. He couldn't believe he had just said that. In the presence of her father none the less. Lucky for him Imrahil only took his words as a means to console his anxiety. But Aragorn heard the words for what it was and couldn't help but give the Rohirrim a raised eyebrow. Éomer, who was beginning to blush ignored Aragorn's look.

"I agree with Éomer, Imrahil. Your daughter couldn't have made a more lasting impression than she did today, her love and concern for you cancelled out any impropriety. She is a beauty Imrahil. You should be proud," said Aragorn.

"Aragorn, I hope it is I you are talking about. I don't think talking about the beauty of another maiden will suit my fancy M'lord," a voice floated into the room. All three head turned to the door and watched the new entries. Lady Arwen walked up to Aragorn and placed a soft kiss on his lips. Lord Faramir and Lady Éowyn bowed to the three rulers before taking a seat in their little circle.

"Good evening, my lords," said Faramir, reaching out to receive the offered drink.

"And where are our other friends?" asked Éowyn, taking a small sip from Faramir's drink. Éomer decided to ignore his sister's bold move for it would be useless to tell her otherwise.

"They have other plans and have asked to be excluded from our company tonight," said Aragorn.

"And where is Lady Lothíriel?" asked Éowyn again. The princess intrigued her and she deeply wanted to know more about her love's cousin.

"She is getting ready to join us for evening tea," said Lady Arwen. Imrahil sighed again.

"I pray that at least her dress has been cleaned," he said mostly to himself, but Arwen's keen ears heard him.

"Prince Imrahil, your worries are needless. I have leant her something of mine," said Arwen. Imrahil's face brightened up and he bowed low to Arwen.

"Thank you my lady. You have taken her under your wing and to that I a deeply grateful," he said. Lady Arwen was about to respond when a loud clanking sound was heard from Éomer. All heads turned to him but the King of Mark did not notice as he was looking at something else, his jaw slacked and his eyes slightly glazed over. He was completely unaware of the mess he had made on the table with his dropped goblet.

"Good evening my lords and ladies. Forgive my tardiness, but it seems the trip here had exhausted me more than expected," came the voice of Lady Lothíriel from the doorway. Heads turned from Éomer to her and it wasn't only Éomer who was stunned by her beauty. If Éowyn had not bestowed a hard and powerful pinch to Faramir's side, he too would be staring at her with his jaw hanging low. Aragorn only received a hard squeeze from his lady but it was enough. As for Prince Imrahil… he couldn't believe that it was Lothíriel standing there. That wasn't his sweet little girl who had arrived unexpected this morning. This was a fully grown woman.

"Daughter?" he began unsurely. Lothíriel couldn't help but laugh at her father's expression.

"Yes, it is I, father. Do not look so shocked," she said. Imrahil looked a little longer before striding up to her and enveloping her in a hug.

"When did you grow up, for I feel as if it was only yesterday you were my little girl? Now, you stand before me so beautiful and so grown up," he said softly cupping her cheek in his hand. He looked at her face and saw his wife. He had never really noticed how Lothíriel resembled his wife. Must have been all that dirt that usually accompanied her.

"Imrahil, will you not grant us the pleasure of your daughter's company, or will you keep her at the door the entire night?" suddenly Éomer's voice broke out. He had very much recovered from his shock and was working extra hard to ignore the looks from his sister and to regain his lighthearted manner again. Imrahil gave Éomer a narrowed look.

"I do not mind the other gentlemen as their ladies will hold them in check. You, my dear friend, I am wary off. It wouldn't do for you to return to Rohan with my daughter's heart in your hands," he said. Lothíriel's eyes widen at her fathers words and she could feel her face becoming hot.

"Father!" she hissed at him and a brief glance at the Rohirrim told her that he too was embarrassed. But he unlike her covered it well.

"And I have no doubt that if that were to happen you would ride after me till the ends of Adar to reclaim it back," he said his tone wry but his cheeks were red.

"Aye, that I would," said Imrahil and although he smiled, his words were no jest. Lothíriel decided to put an end to this silly talk.

"Father you are talking nonsense, no doubt the effects of an empty stomach. King Elessar, perhaps we could move ahead and dine before my father and King Éomer trade even sillier words," she said, her tone calm, but Aragorn saw the pleading in her eyes. So he got up and offered an arm to his lady, Lord Faramir following suit.

"I agree with the Lady Lothíriel. Hunger has made your words mad, both of you. So come let us eat," said Aragorn, flashing his two friends a wry grin. Imrahil and Éomer bowed at Aragorn and when they turned to look at each other, they broke into identical smirks. Imrahil held out his arm to Lothíriel and she looped hers into his.

"It seems that I will walk alone, tis sad the life of a Rohan King," sighed Éomer from his seat. Éowyn laughed and held out her arm to him.

"I do not think Faramir would mind sharing me for one night," she said and Faramir just smiled, looking deep into her eyes. Éomer rolled his eyes but took her arm anyways. The friends were ready to leave, and only waited for Aragorn and Arwen to leave the room first as was custom. Suddenly Imrahil spoke out.

"Aragorn, would you wait for a while. I wish to retrieve an item," he said looking at Aragorn then his daughter. Aragorn nodded his approval and Imrahil released his daughter and disappeared into an adjacent room to the parlor.

"What has he gone to get?" asked Éomer at Faramir. Faramir's eyes followed his uncle and then looked at his cousin who had also turned to look at him, her eyes glint of irritation in them. He laughed.

"He has gone to get a cloak," he said and Lothíriel shot him a withering look.

"A cloak? In this heat?" Aragorn said in surprise.

"Nay, my lord, it is not for him… but for me," replied Lothíriel in frustration. She had really thought that her father's approval had been a stepping stone for her to blossom into the woman she desperately wanted to be rather than the child her father wished her to remain. But she should have known better. Imrahil appeared seconds later, in his hands his sky blue cloak and as she and Faramir had predicted, he draped the cloak around her shoulders covering her entire body except the head.

"Come, let's proceed to the dining hall," he said and reclaimed Lothíriel's arm, expertly dodging her dagger looks.

* * *

Lothíriel pushed her food around. She just didn't seem to have much appetite. Maybe it was the tight dress pressing her stomach down, but whatever the case was, she just wasn't hungry. To her left her father was engaged in a conversation with King Elessar and King Éomer and in front of her was her cousin and Lady Éowyn, pretty much preoccupied with each other. So she decided to entertain herself by observing the people who shared the table with her. With lowered eyelashes, her gaze fell to King Elessar and his future wife. 

A sweet memory came into her mind about a time when she was but a little girl. After her mother had died, Imrahil had hired a local lady to look after her, to act as her nana. The old lady had long passed, but Lothíriel still remembered how her nana would take her into her lap on the nights when she wouldn't be able to sleep and tell her a story about how one day a strong King would come and lead the people of Gondor and Dol Amroth to a new era of glory, how the stronghold of the two city would flourish under his command. And she would also add how he would sweep into Dol Amroth on a white stallion and with one look at the beautiful princess he would sweep her onto his horse and ride with her into the sunset. It shamed her a little now that she had actually grown up believing her nana's words. But now that she had finally met King Elessar, imagining herself next to him seemed… wrong. Like she didn't belong there. And she didn't. She looked once again to the couple and realized that it wasn't Lady Arwen's beauty that was mesmerizing, but the fact that the two looked so compatible, as if they were two halves reunited to form a single beautiful object.

A laugh from lady Éowyn caught her attention and Lothíriel shifted her thoughts to her and Faramir. She didn't have to worry about hiding her gaze as the two were so visibly wrapped up in each other. She didn't know much about Lady Éowyn, but from what she had seen, she would compare the White Lady to a willow tree. On the outside, it seemed frail, capable of breaking at anytime, but in the face of strong winds, it would not break no matter how low it was forced to bend. She looked to Faramir, who had bent down to whisper something in his lady's ears and Lothíriel almost smiled when she saw Lady Éowyn blush prettily. She looked a little longer at her cousin. There was something different about him, now that she thought of it. But what? Her head unconsciously cocked slightly to the side as she pondered about it. Then it straightened. That was it. Her cousin no longer had the air of someone holding the world on his shoulders. The grief that was always present in his eyes, even when he was laughing with her was gone. So it's finally happened. Someone has finally pierced his solid wall and shown him what a wonderful person he was. She had tried so many times in the past but her efforts were always thwarted by her uncle.

Her smile disappeared at the thought of Denethor. She couldn't really say she was sad to hear of his demise. He had worked hard to break his youngest son's gentle spirit, unwilling to accept and love Faramir for the wonderful person he was. When Boromir was alive he would protect his brother from his father's harsh words… but he was always away patrolling the borders and eventually Denethor's words sent Faramir away to Ithilien in self-exile and little was heard of him, only returning when word had traveled that Boromir and his troops were in Minas Tirinth. Boromir. How much she missed him. Especially now. Her heart tightened and the pain came back. She had spent the entire week in tears when her father had told her of his death. Yet, deep inside she refused to believe it. But now she would have to come to terms with it. She sighed. She won't lie to herself. She loved Boromir. Not as a brother but more. And yes, she knew that marriage between them would be impossible, but that didn't stop her. She loved his dry humor, how he still looked for hope even when despair had taken over the hearts of those around him. He would always tell her that one day Gondor's glory will be restored. He never ran out of things to laugh at, whether it be over a pint of ale or over an ugly wound in his torso. How her heart would flutter furiously and her thoughts scattered and erratic when he was around her and when he left Dol Amroth, a small piece of her would go with him, and emptiness would fill her being only to be overcome when he visited next. And one day, the visits stopped.

"Lothíriel?" her father's voice broke into her thoughts. She looked up and saw that all eyes were focused on her, and there was concern in them. A drop of water dropped onto her hand and when she looked down it was a tear. Her tears. Quickly she wiped her wet cheeks. She hadn't even noticed she had started to cry. She flashed all of them a smile and rested an assuring arm on her father's arm.

"I am okay. Just a little disoriented. Things have happened at such a fast pace I am still spinning from it all. Why, it was only yesterday that Dol Amroth awaited news of the destruction of man and today we are all celebrating a new dawn and the future wedding of our King and the Steward of Gondor," she said, and she couldn't help winking at her cousin, very unladylike.

"A night's rest will calm your thoughts, and tomorrow you will feel well," said Aragorn kindly. He had felt her eyes on him moments earlier and knew her thoughts had run deep within her mind and heart. Lothíriel's eyes widen in despair.

"Rest? Again? My lord I have rested enough. Instead, with your permission I would like to stroll around in your lush gardens. It has been awhile since I have stepped on Gondor soil," she said, another pain stabbing her heart as she remembered the last time she had come here was with Boromir. It was also the last time she had seen him. But she wore a smile as she looked at her king, waiting for his answer.

"Lady Lothíriel, my grounds are yours to do as you please. But I wouldn't recommend a stroll at such late a night, especially alone," said Aragorn a little reluctant. Imrahil agreed with him.

"Yes, daughter. It is too dangerous. And as much as I would love to join you, I am wary from today's events," said Prince Imrahil. His words sealed her night. For she indeed had wanted to enlist her father in a nightly walk, but she could see the tiredness in his face and she knew he should rest. The battle had worn him out more than she had expected.

"Perhaps then… Lady Lothíriel, may _I_ accompany you instead?" all eyes turned to Éomer. The Rohan King turned slightly red and quickly added.

"Of course, with Prince Imrahil's approval," he said looking briefly at Imrahil then turning back to his plate. Lothíriel could feel her cheeks burning.

"King Éomer…" she began but was cut off by Éowyn.

"What a wonderful idea. I'm sure Prince Imrahil has no objections, do you my lord? In fact, Faramir and I will join you," said Éowyn brightly. Faramir looked as if he wanted to protest but a sharp dig in his ribs, turned his objection into acquiesce.

"Yes, I think that is a great idea," he said.

"Well, if that's the case, then I see no harm in a night stroll, as long as you remain within the palace perimeters, and keep out of the dark corners as well as…" began Prince Imrahil but stopped when Lothíriel placed a hand on his arm. She looked up at her father with loving eyes. He will never get used to her growing up.

"Father, I know," she said softly. Imrahil smiled down at her.

"Shall we?' Faramir's voice broke their moment and immediately the reality of the situation rushed back to Lothíriel. She wished Éomer hadn't asked to accompany her. No, she wished she hadn't opened her mouth. How is it, she manages to place herself in such an awkward position. It wasn't that she didn't like him, but it was more of the fact that she would, with no doubt, say something atrociously stupid that any thoughts of forming a link with Dol Amroth will be severed. What King of any realm would want to have connections with a city inhabited by a princess who keeps putting her foot in her mouth? But the damaged had been done, and she saw herself standing up and placing an arm on Éomer's outstretched hand and the two bowed to the remaining three people at the table before following Faramir and Éowyn out into the garden.

End of chapter 1

(8,509 words)


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

The four strolled leisurely into the lush gardens. It was a clear night, stars scattering the velvet black sky like diamonds and the bright moon lighted their paths. Éowyn had decided to use this opportunity to get to know Lothíriel and began asking her questions about Dol Amroth. Their two escorts remained silent walking behind them, also listening to Lothíriel's voice.

"And you say your city is built along the sea?" she asked and Lothíriel nodded.

"Well, technically yes. In truth the palace is built along the shores and the city extends past it towards the inland," she replied. Éowyn nodded, and then looked slightly confused.

"Why do you constantly refer to it so impersonally as "the palace"? Do you live elsewhere?" she asked. Lothíriel felt her face turn a little warm and was glad for the darkness that hid what she knew was her pink cheeks. Faramir laughed.

"Aye, that she does, for most of her growing years" he replied, a teasing smile on his face. Lothíriel shot his a narrow look but her cousin ignored it.

"If it doesn't offend your highness, where did you grow up?" asked Éomer, looking tentatively at Lothíriel. She was about to explain that her cousin was being silly, but Faramir was milking it for all its worth.

"Lothíriel could tell you the exact design and built of the royal stable in pitch darkness, but would get lost in the palace looking for her room," answered Faramir and he let out a gusto laugh. Éowyn smiled broadly too and placed a comforting arm on Lothíriel.

"Do not mind him, he is male," she said as if it explained it all. Éomer however wasn't laughing. In fact he looked with full understanding.

"That doesn't seem unusual. Why wouldn't anyone not know the insides of a stable with great detail?" he asked. Faramir ceased his laughter and gave his future brother in law an amused look.

"Aye, I would see how you would find it agreeable. You two would be a fine match, indeed," he said wryly. His words were simple and had no ulterior intensions behind them but still Lothíriel gave him a cuff on the arm, and Éomer had diverted his gaze elsewhere, most likely in hiding his reddening cheek, something that was becoming usual for him around the princess. Anyhow, the two missed the sudden thoughtful look on Éowyn's face. She looked at the two, rotating between the princess who was staring at Faramir with dagger looks and her brother, who had suddenly become preoccupied by a point past the garden boundaries and the wheels in her head began to churn.

"Princess Lothíriel," she said suddenly, and Lothíriel turned away from her laughing cousin to the Lady of Rohan.

"Please, I am only Lothíriel," she said pleasantly. Éowyn smiled. She was beginning to like the princess a lot and the plan in her head seemed better and better.

"Lothíriel, I have something to admit," she said, successfully making her voice remorseful. The other two men turned to look at her, and Lothíriel stepped closer, her eyes gentle questioning but without any traces of accusation. Éowyn threw a glance to her brother before lowering her lashes demurely, a troubled look on her face. Lothíriel understood the look.

"Would you please excuse us?" she said and gently steered Éowyn out of hearing distance from the two gentlemen. Both wore identical worried looks.

"What is it, Lady Éowyn?" she asked.

"Please call me Éowyn. It is this, my true intent to accompany your stroll was actually to lure Faramir for a quiet walk, just the two of us," she said, not taking her eyes of the ground. Lothíriel didn't know what to say. What was expected of her?

"But my brother…" Éowyn began again.

"Would not allow such a thing?" Lothíriel continued, finally understanding the situation. She did after all have three brothers of her own.

"You would want me to distract your brother so you may sneak off with my cousin?" she asked. Éowyn nodded and looked hopefully at Lothíriel. She laughed softly and agreed.

"Éowyn you have given a new meaning to my cousin's life and shown his weary spirit the joys of love and restored in his eyes his self worth and pride. How can I deny you anything?" she replied and Éowyn beamed.

"Thank you Lothíriel," she said.

"Do not thank me yet, for I do not know if I have the means to distract your brother," she said. Éowyn refrained from saying anything. Lothíriel had no idea what she was doing to her brother. Éowyn knew for a fact that Éomer's eyes were fixed on the Dol Amroth princess than his little sister.

"I thank you anyways for your efforts. Come let's return to our gallant gentlemen," she said and was delighted when Lothíriel colored at the implication that Éomer was her 'gentleman'. The two ladies walked back to Éomer and Faramir.

"Is anything amiss?" Faramir immediately asked his love but Éowyn just smiled and linked her arm around his. Lothíriel took her lead and turned to Éomer, thinking hard what would catch the young man's attention.

"King Éomer," she began. Éomer who had been looking at his sister turned to the princess.

"You had promised to escort me around the gardens yet you spend time with my cousin. Do you escort him instead?' she asked her lips upturned into a smile. Éomer chuckled.

""Forgive me your highness. May I?" he extended his arm to her and continued their walk, with Faramir and Éowyn behind them.

"The gardens are beautiful, are they not?" she asked. Éomer nodded but didn't offer any in put. Lothíriel knew that Éomer had keen senses and it would take something of great interest to catch his attention. She turned slightly to Éowyn and the other lady smiled in encouragement.

"Your majesty, tell me… um… ah yes, are women of Rohan normally seen in stables?" she asked then mentally kicked herself. It wouldn't do to remind the Rohan king about her un-princess like behavior. But Éomer looked more amused than scandalous.

"Horses are a big part of a Rohirrim, may it be male or female, so yes it would be usual to see several of my people linger in the stables, although I can not say I have seen any actually grow up in one," he said and Lothíriel cringed inwardly. She was going to skewer Faramir's tongue with his own sword.

"Your majesty shouldn't take much of Lord Faramir's words to heart. Sometimes his lack of intelligence disrupts his ability to say things of sense," she said. Éomer laughed at her words, briefly turning back to give Faramir a smirk but the steward was gone. And so was his sister. Lothíriel too noticed their absence and congratulated herself. Éomer released her arm but she quickly grabbed it back. He looked down at her questioningly an eyebrow raised. Suddenly it didn't seem like a good idea anymore to Lothíriel. No doubt King Éomer was angered by her deception and would march up to her father and declare Dol Amroth as the enemy. But none of it came. Instead the king returned her hands to the crook of his arm and continued down the path.

"I should have known she would try to pull something like that," he said almost to himself but Lothíriel heard and was glad for the absence of anger.

"With the usage of such a beautiful pawn, nonetheless," he said louder for Lothíriel to hear. Her eyes jerk up to meet his amused ones and she quickly lowered her eyelashes to hide her embarrassment and even a little tingle of pleasure from the compliment.

"She was afraid you would be angry, and asked for my help. I couldn't deny her time with my cousin, they are very much in love," she said successfully keeping her tone light but her chest tightened in pain. Éomer did hear the subtle ache in her voice but chose to ignore it. He had no rights to intervene with her personal life… yet.

"I have no doubts of their feelings but I do not believe she would fear my response to such daringness," he said. Lothíriel looked up in interest.

"Oh really?" she asked. Éomer laughed softly and his tone became gentle.

"Aye, since we were young she had been doing exactly what she wanted. If she wished to swing a sword than stitch, then there she was in the fields training with me and Theodred," he said, smiling at the memories.

"And who is Theodred?" she asked again. Éomer stiffened but answered her question.'

"He was my cousin and the heir to Rohan but he perished in an orc raid," he said. Lothíriel bit her lips.

"I am sorry. I know how it feels to lose a cousin," she whispered and once again the pain returned. This time Éomer didn't ignore it.

"Princess, I may be out of line and please do not answer if I offend, but your highness and Lord Boromir… were…" he didn't really know how to address his thoughts to her.

"Why do you ask?" Lothíriel asked her face hardening. The cheek of this man! Just because he is King doesn't mean he has a right to interfere with her personal life. Éomer felt her stiffen and thought hard on how to not offend the princess further.

"It is just that, you mourn him not as a cousin but as…" he stammered.

"But as a woman who is in love with him?" she said softly and pulled away from Éomer.

"Princess, I am sorry. I was out of line. Please, just forget my words and lets us continue our walk," he said in a desperate attempt to restore her good humor. But Lothíriel couldn't forget. Anymore than she could forget Boromir.

"I realize what you must think of me. In love with my own cousin. Completely unheard of in Rohan I'm sure. And I assure in Dol Amroth and Gondor, it is not a habit to marry to someone so closely related," she said, quickly the last bits, just in case Éomer thought that marriage between first cousins were a normality.

"Princess, I do not judge you. I was merely curious. Were you planning on getting married?" he asked again. Lothíriel laughed a little and she smiled at Éomer, even though her eyes shone with unshed tears.

"No, whatever feelings I had for him, were not returned and eventually my uncle would have made Boromir marry a daughter of a noble man within Gondor," she said. Éomer nodded. That would have been a fate to befall him if he hadn't become king.

"Well, my lord, you have stripped my heart of its covering, it is only fair that I return the favor. So, King Éomer, who _will_ be Queen of Rohan?" she asked and her light mood returned. Éomer was pleased to hear her in her teasing mood again, but was a little uncomfortable with the question. And he visibly showed it, much to Lothíriel's amusement.

"Ah, a queen? I haven't really thought of that," he said shifting from foot to foot.

"But my lord, as king it is your duty to marry and produce an heir," she said, perfectly imitating one of his advisers. He rolled his eyes.

"Come now, King Éomer, do not tell me that there isn't a lady in Rohan that has struck your fancy?" she asked, her eyes wide in wonder. She would have thought this magnificent man in front of her would have no problems finding someone to bear his children. Éomer laughed.

"There are beautiful ladies in Rohan, I would not be a man if I said otherwise, but as third marshal and now King, I am preoccupied. With looking after my horse and ensuring safety," said Éomer, his tone indicating clearly which he considered his priority.

"Is that so? Your horse. Well, since Rohirrim are such avid horse lovers, I suppose your people wouldn't mind a horse taking the place of a queen. You'll have to enlargen the crown though to fit its head," she said, her tone serious as if she were talking about a woman instead. Éomer stared at her in wonder before letting go a boisterous laugh. He laughed long and hard, till he had to bend down and clutch his side, to stop the pain there. Lothíriel just looked at him a smug smile on her lips for making this man laugh. When he was finally done, he reached out and took her hand into his and placed a kiss on its back.

"Princess, I can not remember the last time I have laughed so. Thank you," he said breathlessly.

"You are welcome, my lord," she said and he held her hand a little longer, the two staring into each others eyes. And high above them, the moon's ray shifted to rest upon them, bathing the two in its silvery light, shutting out everything around them in darkness. But then a cloud passed across the moon and the moment was broken. Éomer quickly let go of Lothíriel's hand and turned his gaze past her head, tugging slightly at the neck of his tunic. He had suddenly felt a little hot. As for Lothíriel, her hand where his lips had grazed was tingling and she could feel unusual sensations flutter through her body.

"My lord, you still haven't told me who holds your heart?" she asked, her tone shy and she didn't look at him, but thought is best to lighten the intense mood that had unexpectedly settled on them. Her approach worked and Éomer smiled at her, the air no longer charged with static.

"Haven't we agreed that my horse will rule beside me?" he responded with a laugh. Lothíriel gave him a not amused look although her lips quivered upwards. Éomer sighed.

"You are a persistent one aren't you?" he sighed and Lothíriel broke into a smile.

"One of my many endearing qualities," she replied and Éomer just rolled his eyes before sighing again.

"To answer your question, princess, no I don't have a lady in mind to be queen," he said.

"There that wasn't so hard was it? Do not worry, my lord, you will find someone. You are not that bad too look at," she said patting his arm consolingly.

"My lady, any more tongue from you and I might just make you my queen," he said menacingly. Lothíriel saw the teasing in his eyes and decided to play along.

"No, please my lord, not that," she cried moving backwards. Éomer advanced towards her.

"I think yes, princess. I shall take you away to Rohan where you will have no choice but to live with the horses and me, in our stable!" he continued and Lothíriel placed a hand to her forehead, mimicking a damsel in distress pose.

"Live with you? In a stable! Oh the horror! How can I survive? I must run, and save myself from such a horrid fate," she said and lifted her skirts and ran. But she didn't get far before she was whisked off her feet and twirled around in Éomer's arms. Lothíriel let out a squeal and hung tight to Éomer's neck. Éomer laughed at her and swung her harder, causing her to squeal louder.

"Ahem," a loud sound caused Éomer to suddenly stop, turn around and promptly come face to face with a not very much amused Prince Imrahil.

"Éomer I must ask you to release my daughter," he said wryly. Éomer quickly lowered Lothíriel to her feet and the princess quickly smoothed her dress before moving to stand beside her father, her eyes not leaving the ground. Éomer met the prince's eyes, but his cheeks were a flame.

"Good night, Éomer," said the Imrahil again and with a firm grip on his daughter he lead her back to the palace leaving Éomer to stand alone in the garden. Lothíriel turned to offer him an apologetic look but her father pulled at her arm causing her to turn back in front. Éomer continued watching the two retreating figures and though he still felt a bit embarrassed, he could not deny another more pleasurable feeling stirring within him.

* * *

The next morning Éomer woke up late as a result of spending most of the night with his thoughts on the Dol Amroth princess. He had thought about her and their topic of conversation. She was right; he did need to find himself and Rohan a queen. He wasn't terribly surprised to realize that the princess who had so cleverly manipulated him and stirred his emotions would be a perfect candidate but as much as he wanted too, he knew it would not happen, his people's needs outweighed his own and he owed it to his people to marry a Rohirrim nobility. Whatever feelings he had felt stirring the night before he had to bury deep within him. He wouldn't court the princess and when he returned to Edoras he would look for a wife from the many ladies in his homeland.

"Brother," his sister's voice broke into his thoughts. He turned to Éowyn and was about to smile before he caught himself and turned his smile into a frown. He hadn't forgotten that it was her fault he was in trouble with his friend.

"A frown so early in the morning, brother. Wake up on the wrong side of the bed did you?" asked Éowyn trying to look pitying but failing. Her eyes were merry and her lips were still swollen from her midnight rendezvous. Éomer deciphered her expressions easily.

"It is not the bed that is at fault, but you, dear sister. You used Princess Lothíriel and your unsuspecting brother to be alone with Faramir under the pretense that you were joining Lothíriel and me on a night walk," he said not losing his frown. But Éowyn wasn't fazed by his stern exterior.

"I'm pretending? Like you are now?" she asked aghast or at least trying to sound so.

"I am not pretending," he answered in a huff.

"Yes you are. You can not make me believe that you didn't enjoy being alone with the princess, in a dark garden," she said, smiling suggestively at him. Éomer felt his face heat up.

"This isn't about me, Éowyn. It's about you and Faramir's improper behavior," he snapped. Éowyn bristled.

"Improper? I was out walking with my betrothed. How is that improper?" she asked defensively.

"It is improper when the following morning you appear before King Elessar's court with bite marks on your white neck," he said dryly. It was Éowyn's turn to blush, and a pale hand flew up to the offending marks on her slender neck before quickly rearranging her golden tresses to hide the passion mark.

"My skin is fair not white and they are insect bites," she said trying to keep the embarrassment out of her voice. Éomer snorted.

"Must be very big insects," he mumbled then groaned when his ribs came into contact with Éowyn's fist.

"At least Faramir and I are promised to each other. What of you and Lothíriel? Will you ask Imrahil permission to court her?' she asked, her face perking in interest. However Éomer was spared from answering her as the two had reached the doors to the formal dining room. They entered and saw that everyone had been assembled, men, elf, dwarf and hobbits. The two bowed to their friends before taking seats. Éowyn went to take her seat next to Faramir and Éomer went to sit between Legolas and Frodo.

"Éomer, rough night? Never seen you wake up late before," said Merry from across him. He glanced briefly to Lothíriel who had her head bent down over her plate and locked eyes with Imrahil instead which caused him to look away quickly.

"Yes, I had trouble sleeping. And you Master Brandybuck, I take it slept well?" he asked, smiling at the still red faces of the hobbits. Sam had his head in his hands, no doubt suffering a hangover. Merry grinned and gave Sam pat on the back.

"Yup, like a brick. Maybe you should come down to the tavern with us tonight. There is nothing better than a pint of ale to cure your sleepless nights," said Merry.

"Or three pints," cried out Pippin.

"Thank you friends, but I will pass. Maybe some other nights," he said and smiled as Merry shrugged then turned to Frodo and Pippin.

On the other side, Lothíriel ate her breakfast silently barely listening to the conversation around her, in her head her father's words playing over and over in her head. He had spent the entire walk to her room telling her that she was not a little girl (why does he only remember that when she does something wrong?) and that it isn't proper conduct for a princess to be out alone with a man, king or not and it was especially unacceptable to be flung around as she had been. She had refrained from reminding her father that it was Éomer who had done the act, she hadn't asked him too. She sighed. She would never be a lady, much less a princess. She was only grateful that he father had ceased his lecture when they arrived at her door and that the dress lady Arwen had laid down for her to wear today had been altered for her height.

"Princess Lothíriel," Prince Legolas's voice drew her away from her thoughts. She looked up and smiled at the elf, willing herself to not look at the Rohirrim next to him.

"Forgive me Prince Legolas, did you say something?" she asked, collecting her thoughts. He smiled at her and she had to blink to stop herself from freezing at his handsomeness.

"I simply wished to know if you are a regular visitor to Gondor," he said keeping his smile. Lothíriel smiled back and nodded then shook her head.

"I was when I was young, but then the road between Dol Amroth and Gondor became too dangerous, so I had to rely on news from messengers and my cousins," she said, and as usual the pain that accompanied her thoughts of Boromir returned although she noticed that it wasn't so intense. Legolas looked with understanding.

"I had the honor of being acquainted with Boromir and I share your grief, princess," he said. Lothíriel nodded but couldn't bring herself to speak.

"Come let's not dwell on those departed. We should find solace that his passing had been as he would have wanted it to be, in battle against evil," he continued and flashed another smile. And his smile must have been addictive as she smiled back and her spirit was lifted.

"So, Prince Legolas how long will you be in Gondor?" she asked.

"Until Aragorn's wedding and then Gimli and I have some unfinished business to attend too, don't you not agree Master Gimli," Legolas cried out to his friend. Gimli raised him beer pitcher in agreement. Lothíriel looked at the dwarf and laughed and her gaze momentarily landed on Éomer but the king was preoccupied with something on his plate. A small cough from her father, and she looked away from him back to her plate. Legolas didn't engage her in anymore conversation and she continued her breakfast in silence, and only half hearing the conversations around her.

Before long the four gentlemen took leave to King Elessar's parlor, while Lady Éowyn and Lady Arwen had decided to prepare the last minute details of tomorrow's dresses and the four hobbits had volunteered to inspect the food for the wedding. Lothíriel remained to converse with Legolas and Gimli for a while longer but then she too asked to be excused claiming that there was a lot of Gondor that she wanted to reacquaint herself with and no, she wouldn't need to be escorted.

Meanwhile inside the King Elessar's parlor, Éomer was facing the most deadly battle in his life, an audience with an angry father, and he didn't think he would come out of this unscathed.

"Éomer, I value your friendship and am indebted to you, but you must understand that I put my duty as a father before my duty to a friend. What are your intentions on my daughter?" Imrahil had suddenly burst after half an hour of silence. Aragorn poured him a glass of bourbon and handed it to the squeamish Rohirrim with a pitying look. He knew what it felt like to be under the scrutiny of a father, for hadn't Elrond given him enough share of grief over Arwen? Éomer took it down in one swallow.

"Imrahil, I have no ill intentions towards your daughter. In fact I have no intentions towards her at all," he said respectfully. In this situation he was not a king but a man who had acted in an improper manner towards a princess and must answer for his actions to the father. Imrahil inhaled deeply.

"That is not what I saw last night, Éomer. You were holding my daughter in your arms and twirling her around. She is a princess Éomer, not a common maid," Imrahil continued, his eyes narrow.

"I do not deny it. And to that I ask for your forgiveness," he said. Imrahil said nothing but nodded. He supposed he was over reacting, but when he saw his precious daughter in the arms of a man, he had felt fear. The sudden reality that his daughter was not a little girl was a grown woman to be married scared the life out of him. She was the last gift his beloved wife had left him. How could he let her go to another man, king or not?

"Do you intend to take her as your wife, Éomer?" Aragorn spoke for the first time. Imrahil paled a little, and dreaded the answer. So it was a surprise to him when Éomer shook his head.

"No? You do not find her suitable? Is she not beautiful enough for you?" Imrahil asked, relieved that he wasn't about to lose her yet, but miffed that he would reject her so. Éomer looked at Imrahil, his eyes glinting.

"She is beautiful Imrahil. She shines with her own light, her individuality without compromising her grace. I would have to be blind to say Princess Lothíriel is anything but beautiful. But I can not marry her. I am obliged to my people to marry a Rohirrim lady," he said.

"That is orc waste, Éomer!" Faramir suddenly cried out, and heads turned to him, suddenly remembering the Steward's presence. He was looking at Éomer with anger in his eyes.

"Éowyn is not of Gondor blood and neither is Lady Arwen. But the people here welcome them with open hearts. And so will the Rohirrim should you bring Lothíriel back with you to Edoras," he said.

"And if they do not? I would have uprooted her from all that she knows and loves to plant her in a place where she will not be accepted? No, there is no more to be said. I will marry a lady from Rohan," he said his tone not allowing any room for arguments. And beyond the slightly ajar oaken doors of the parlor, in a dress of dark green was Lothíriel, her chest heaving and her eyes brimming with tears. She hadn't meant to over hear the conversation but was now glad she did. She didn't know why she was reacting so strongly to it, but it didn't stop her from feeling hurt from the rejection. She softly walked away from the doors not caring where her feet would take her.

It took her to a point high above the palace. To one of the many watch towers, deserted many winters ago. Slowly she sat down on one of the crumbling bricks, making sure the surface was clean enough to not stain Lady Arwen's pretty dress. She tucked her feet under her and looked into the lands spread out before her. Gondor was indeed a beautiful city and now its glory restored bit by bit. Green meadows stretch further than the eyes can see and even the battlefields at the very gates of the city had begun to recover, as patches of green could be seen. It wouldn't be long before the redness of death would be replaced by the greenness of peace.

She sighed and closed her eyes letting the breeze blow over her, giving her a sense of calm. The first time in ages. In Dol Amroth when her father was out fighting, she would be left in charge along with her father's many advisers and her responsibility would not allow a moment of peace. And when the messenger had arrived, only four days ago, without much thought she had leapt on her faithful Hermés and sped to Gondor like a band of orcs were on her tail.

Then she had arrived and instead of feeling relieved that her father was safe, she had collapsed into a pile of emotions, crying at the most unusual moments, causing all around her to worry. And she hadn't even begun thinking about Éomer. What was he doing to her heart? She was still in love with Boromir and she should be mourning of his passing. But when she was with Éomer, he made her laugh. The night before, how easily he lifted her spirits from its gloom.

"But he doesn't think of me like a future love," she whispered to herself and despair washed over her.

Boromir hadn't loved her like she had loved him also. Maybe there was something wrong with her? Yes, that's what it was. It was her. Not Éomer, not Boromir, not any of the men in Dol Amroth. It was her. Suddenly her despair was replaced by anger. Anger that she should be judged so fiercely because she wasn't docile, quiet and because she wouldn't lower herself to the level of a doormat, like the other court ladies.

Lothíriel got to her feet and stood at the edge of the tower, looking down at the people busy with their everyday life. The anger was building inside her to a fever pitch. She couldn't hold it in anymore. Inhaling deeply she released a scream that would send an Oliphant into hiding. She shouted for the loss of Boromir, she shouted for the injustice that she was born a female, she shouted for all the families that had lost loved ones, she shouted for the despair that she would never bring pride to her father by marrying into a good family and when she had run out of things to scream about, she continued still until there was no air left in her lungs to allow her to continue.

She looked down and saw that the once busy streets had come to a standstill and all eyes were fixed on her. She couldn't see it, but she could imagine the shock on their faces. And it made her laugh. Falling back to the brick she had sat, she began to laugh. And that was how her father found her minutes later. He and the other gentlemen had heard a piercing scream and had rushed out. Upon questioning one of the guards had pointed to the deserted watch towers. There he saw Lothíriel standing horribly close to the edge, her hair flying madly around her. He was stunned. It was only when she had ceased her cries that he found his feet to run up to where she had yelled from.

"Lothíriel, daughter! What is the meaning of this?" he cried, rushing up to her side. She was still laughing, though not as loud, yet her body was still wracking in laughter. She looked up at him, her eyes merry with mirth. He father did not return her merriment.

"Father, did you run up all the way?" she asked in between laughter. Imrahil did not respond but let her finish laughing. Eventually her laughter subsided and when she turned to her father, her eyes were brimming with tears.

"He doesn't want me, father. I heard him, he doesn't want me," she sobbed and Imrahil gathered her into his arms where she sobbed into his shirt. He knew who she was talking about.

"What's wrong with me father? I am that horrendous to look at that no man wants me? Boromir didn't want me… no man does," she continued her tears flowing faster. Imrahil said nothing and simply allowed his daughter a very much earned cry. She had been strong too long, he was not in the dark of how his daughter had personally taken care of the women and children in his city as their husbands and fathers go out to war. And how she had to withhold her tears to console their grieved forms when news arrived of more casualties. She was expected to be the strong figure that she hadn't been allowed to mourn for the men that she had grown up with. Yes, Imrahil was very well aware of it all. After a while her sobs receded and she pulled away slightly so she could rest her head on his shoulder. Imrahil repositioned himself so they would be more comfortable.

"Father, I…" began Lothíriel, but Imrahil placed a finger to her lips.

"Shhh, I will speak. My sweet daughter, my precious jewel. You have been brave long enough, now it is your turn to be cared for… and allowed to grieve," he said softly, stroking her hair as if she were a little girl again. She snuggled further into her father's arms, enjoying the warmth of his embrace.

"There is nothing wrong with you, and don't you ever doubt that. You are beautiful in form and in spirit. It must be hard to live under a man's rule and not be able to express your thoughts, and let me be the first to apologize for keeping you down," her father continued. Lothíriel lifted her head to look at her father's forlorn face.

"No father, you have never kept me down. Have you not allowed me to do as I please? Allowed me freedom and eventually assisting in running our city? Father, you have done nothing but love me, flaw and all," she said. Imrahil smiled and planted a kiss on her forehead.

"Do not mistake your uniqueness as a flaw my dear daughter, for it isn't. And you may not believe it but, the people of Dol Amroth love you ever more for it. Did you not know a messenger had arrived late last night from our city with only one question? Is Princess Lothíriel safe? So how can you say there is something wrong with you?" he said and Lothíriel beamed at his words.

"That is why I came out to find you," he said and at this his voice thickened a little. Lothíriel felt it and thought it was because of her behavior.

"I am truly sorry for that father, I won't allow it to happen again," she said contritely. Imrahil laughed. The two remained silent and enjoyed the beauty spread before them and be grateful that they still had each other when so many others had lost someone they loved.

"Daughter, understand why Éomer can not marry you," he said after a while. Lothíriel flinched as she recalled her words. She had told her father her deepest secrets about her feelings for Boromir. But she nodded.

"Yes, he loves his people and would only do the best for them," she replied, and by saying those words aloud, she didn't feel anymore the hurt of rejection. And it wasn't as if she had entertained thoughts of marrying the King of Rohan in the first place.

"And as for Boromir, he held back only because he knew there was no future for the both of you, and he would keep you from being hurt," her father continued again. Lothíriel was stunned. What had her father just said? She straightened to look at him.

"I am not that preoccupied with matter of the state that I would neglect my daughter. I saw what passed between you and him and though you hadn't seen it, if he were anyone else but your cousin, no doubt he would have come to me long ago, asking for your hand," he continued. Lothíriel was silent as she digested her father's words.

"You are just saying this aren't you?" she said, her eyes narrowed.

"By my honor as a knight, I do not lie," replied Imrahil a solemn look on his face. Lothíriel couldn't help smile. In a way it helped to know that she hadn't been hanging by a thread.

"It matters not anymore, but your words are comforting father," she said looking at him. He responded by taking her hands into his.

"And maybe now you will release the ghost that holds you to your pain and be happy, dear daughter," said Imrahil, his tone almost pleading. Lothíriel sighed and closed her eyes. Her father was right. It was time to start a new. A figure formed in her mind, and slowly her cousin appeared before her. He was smiling and nodding and then as quickly as he had come he left, not before sending her a flying kiss. Lothíriel opened her eyes and felt different. Lighter and at peace with her emotions.

"It is gone. My ghost has flown from me," she said softly and with a small laugh she flung herself at her father, engulfing him in a tight hug. Imrahil fought back the tears that were threatening to spill down his cheeks as he hugged back his daughter with equal ferocity.

"Let us head down now, there is a sovereign you owe your apologies too. You caused quite a stir, screaming like a Nazgul from the topmost post of Gondor," said Imrahil sternly. Lothíriel gave him an embarrassed smile.

"Could you not do so for me father, and let me remain up here? You are so much better with words than I am," she tried, looking pleadingly at him. Imrahil just gave her a narrowed look and stood up. He held out his hand which Lothíriel reluctantly took. The two made their way down, Lothíriel at first keeping her head down but a few well selected words from her father gave her confidence to raise her head and meet the gaze thrown her.

The made their way back to the palace to come face to face with five anxious people, as the ladies too were there. Faramir rushed forward to Lothíriel.

"Are you hurt?" he asked, and Lothíriel bit her lip to stop from laughing. Her cousin had gone completely pale.

"I am fine. King Elessar if I have caused alarm, I am truly contrite for it. I had some ghost that needed to be let loose of their binding," she said moving past Faramir to curtsey at Aragorn's feet.

"Don't we all princess? All that matter's is that you are well," said Aragorn his face full of relief, as was the others.

"Uncle may I engage Riel in a walk?" Faramir asked Imrahil. Imrahil nodded, but Lothíriel was a little hesitant. Éowyn saw this and knew instinctively that right now, Lothíriel did not need a lecture, as she knew Faramir was wont to do.

"No you may not, Princess Lothíriel will be joining Lady Arwen and me in preparation for tomorrow's events," Éowyn suddenly piped in, taking hold of Lothíriel's arm.

"Yes, we have much to do to alter a dress befitting you," replied Arwen in a softer tone than Éowyn.

"Maybe another time, cousin," said Lothíriel to Faramir and the steward bowed in acquiesce. With a curtsey to the four gentlemen, Lothíriel, Arwen and Éowyn headed back into the palace. And only when they had completely lost sight of the men did Lothíriel give herself a mental pat on the back for not looking at Éomer even a slight bit, although she could feel his eyes piercing into her.

They headed for a small, but femininely decorated room, and it was a mess. There were two ladies sewing what seemed to be layers and layers of lace and draped across a chair was a white silk dress, lined with silver thread. Lothíriel gasped as she touched the dress. No doubt it was Arwen's wedding dress.

"Lady Arwen, this dress is beautiful. You will look like the Evenstar that you are tomorrow," she breathed before sitting on an empty chair. Lady Arwen who had already sat down smiled over her sewing. Lothíriel saw that she was sewing white roses onto her veil. She then turned to lady Éowyn who too was sewing but didn't look like she enjoyed it much. Éowyn hissed as the needle struck her fingers again.

"Éowyn, would you like me to assist?" Lothíriel finally asked after watching Éowyn prick her finger the third time. Éowyn lost no time handing the dress to Lothíriel.

"Thank you, I am at a loss when it comes to clothes," she said despairingly. Lothíriel masterfully began sewing a hem line on Éowyn's dress.

"If you had taken your lessons as a child, you would not be at a loss," said Arwen not looking up from her veil but smiling. Éowyn leaned back on her chair and grinned.

"Lady Arwen, you sound like my brother. Éomer can be such an old woman at times," she replied. Neither noticed that Lothíriel had dropped her needle at the mention of his name. However, with a straight face she picked it up and resumed her task.

"Éowyn, this is the color of Gondor. Do you not wear your city's color?" asked Lothíriel, fingering the dark blue fabric, similar to Dol Amroth's although Lothíriel's city's color was of sky blue and sea blue. Lady Éowyn's dress was the color of midnight blue. Éowyn laughed.

"Aye, Éomer said that too," she said and once again Lothíriel had to pick her dropped needle. This time it did not go unnoticed. Although not by the sister.

"Nay, I will be wed to Faramir soon so it is befitting that I wear the Stewards color, do you not agree?" she asked. Lothíriel only nodded. Éowyn gave Lothíriel an appraising look, narrowing her eyes as her brow furrowed in thought. After a while Lothíriel looked up to meet Éowyn's gaze.

"Do I have a second head growing Éowyn? Why do you look at me so?" she asked laughing a little.

"I was just imagining you in green and gold. I think you would look beautiful in the Rohan colors tomorrow," she said with a satisfied look. Lothíriel was stunned and even Arwen looked up at Éowyn.

"And pray tell, why would I be wearing your city's color?" Lothíriel said softly, wiling herself to feel nothing. Éowyn was surprised.

"Well, do you not want to match Éomer tomorrow, it is only normal to match the colors of your betrothed, like I have done," she said simply as if Lothíriel were but a small child. The princess blushed beet red.

"You are mistaken Éowyn, he and I are not pledged to each other," she replied and she looked away from the congregation. Éowyn rolled her eyes.

"He is a coward! No doubt he has taken time to ask you father. No worries he will…" she began but Lothíriel interrupted her.

"Nay Éowyn. We are not betrothed and never will be. He has made it clear that only a Rohirrim lady shall sire his heirs. He will not ask, not now not ever," said Lothíriel her tone hard, indicating there was no more words to be said of the issue. Éowyn's eyes widen then harden but she gave Lothíriel an apologetic smile.

"I am sorry Lothíriel. I must have been mistaken," she said and Lothíriel nodded as she resumed her sewing but didn't look at Éowyn. Éowyn on the other hand, smile still in place was thinking of ways to knock some sense into her brother's head, and none of them were painless.

End of Chapter 2

(7,332 words)


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three

The palace was quiet. A little too quiet for Éowyn's comfort. It was night's like these that brought back old anxieties to her heart. A time when darkness engulfed the Riddermark and Wormtongue's slinky voice was continuous in her ears. It was always when the nights were peaceful and the air was still that the worst would seem to befall the people of Edoras. She tightened the shawl around her shoulders, not really from the cold but from the memories.

"Éowyn, cease your morbid thoughts. Has Faramir not taught you anything of hope for the future?" she chided herself. Then she smiled as a vision of Faramir floated through her mind. How much she loved him. And what's more wonderful was that he loved her too.

"Please are you to see me, sister?" Éomer's voice brought Éowyn back to reality.

"Nay, you did not enter my thoughts for a minute," she answered back walking up to her brother. So lost in her thoughts she hadn't noticed that she had wandered to the long stretch of the palace balcony where at that moment her brother was perched on its railings, his back pressed against one of the many pillars supporting the foundation.

"Éowyn, you wound my heart. Do you not have any love for your brother anymore?" he asked feigning a hurt tone.

"Brother, you should be so lucky. If I were armed, I would hurt more than your heart I am sure. And I do it for my love for you," said Éowyn. Éomer raised an eyebrow.

"And what have I done to receive such words?" he asked clearly puzzled. Éowyn frowned at her brother.

"You have the nerve to ask me that. I know of your "talk" with Prince Imrahil," she said. Éomer still looked puzzled. He and Imrahil had talked about a lot of things that day. Which political topic was she talking about?

"About Lothíriel," Éowyn snapped. Éomer leaned back against the pillar, his face turned away from Éowyn.

"Faramir has a big mouth for someone quiet. That does not concern you, sister. Do not meddle in things you know nothing about," he said softly. There was nothing that riled the soon to not be White Lady of Rohan than to be told to mind her own business.

"Do not tell me it is none of my concerns. It involves you dear brother so it becomes my concern," she half yelled. Éomer quickly looked around to see if anyone had heard his sisters out burst.

"Éowyn do not shout so. It is not lady like," her brother said. Éowyn just narrowed her eyes.

"Do not try to distract me Éomer. Why won't you marry Lothíriel?' she asked lowering her voice. Éomer rolled his eyes.

"For the love of Eorl, I do not know her, Éowyn! We have only met for a day. I am not the third marshal anymore. I am king. King of Rohan. No longer are my wants of any importance! Can you not understand that?" he cried. This time it was Éowyn who looked around.

"I know you have only met her. And so have I, yet she is all I would want in a sister and a queen. She is strong inside but a perfect lady on the outside. Well, not a perfect lady, but she shows more grace that I ever will. Court her Éomer, and get to know her. I do not think you would regret it," she said the last bit softly, reaching out a hand to place on her brother's arm. He took her hand into his and massaged it, though his mind was preoccupied.

"I know I will not regret it. But Éowyn, I must marry a lady from Rohan. The people expect this of me," he said, desperately wanting his sister to understand.

"Éomer, how do you know the peoples want?" she asked softly.

"When Theodred was alive, I hear the men speak that they wish and hope Theodred would marry a Rohirrim, and when he… passed on, the expectation fell onto me. I do not talk through a horse's rear, Éowyn, but through what I have heard and seen," he said continuing to massage her hand. Éowyn fell silent at this. But she wouldn't give up.

"Éomer, they will change their minds once they have the fortune of meeting her, I am sure," she tried again. Éomer dropped her hand and looked out into the night.

"No Éowyn, they will not. They want a Rohirrim queen, and no outside lady can change that. Even if she's full of spirit, grace, beauty, wit… it will not change their minds," he answered. Éowyn sighed.

"So you shall remain mere friends with her?" she asked dejectedly. Her brother had made up his mind and she didn't know where to begin changing it. Maybe if they were to be friends…

"No, for I can not trust my heart to not fall in love with her," his answered doused any hope left in her.

"Are you falling in love with her? You do seem to become uncomfortable around her, very unusual for you," she asked. Her brother was no shy soldier in Edoras and does not mind to entertain ladies who should fall into his path. And there are many, that is for certain.

"I do not put it pass my heart to do so but at this moment no I am not in love with her… simply… if you were any other lady I would not say this, but my uncomfortableness comes not from my heart but another region," he grinned sheepishly at his sister. Éowyn gave him a withering look. He has lost none of it.

"And when she appeared in lady Arwen's dress, so tight…" he sighed and smiled out into the night. His mind went back to the night when he twirled her in his arms, how soft she had felt and so inviting. Éowyn smacked him across the head.

"Ow!" he cried out rubbing his head, for her prowess was not of a lady.

"She is a princess, Éomer not a bar maiden, and you should talk of her with respect," she growled.

"And the further more reason why I should stay away from her," he said starting to grin again.

"Éomer…" Éowyn began but he held up his hand.

"She is too much like you Éowyn, restless with herself, never at ease at what is expected of her. And truthfully, after handling you for twenty over years, I would like to spend my life with someone less… like a temperamental stallion," he said hoping his sister would ease with the questions and pestering. Of course he meant not a word of it but he had made up his mind; he will wed only a Rohirrim lady.

"What I feel is only an attraction to her physical form, nothing else. It would be an ill decision to pursue her," he continued this time with finality. He truly believes what he is saying, she thought in disbelief. She shook her head.

"I leave you be, Éomer, for you are an idiot. Good night," she said and without waiting for a reply, she turned and walked back to her chambers. Éomer looked at her receding form a little longer before turning his eyes back to the night. He sighed. Honestly, he would like to get to know the princess, for the bit he had experience the night in the garden had intrigued his senses. And it wasn't her body that made her desirable, though it helped, but her. Even Éowyn wouldn't dare to stand at the highest most point of Rohan and scream like a band of orcs. Yet, Lothíriel had done so, without losing an inch of grace or dignity. And to travel all the way from Dol Amroth with no escorts was truly commendable. There was no doubt in his mind that she was an excellent horsewoman and that was a high point in her favor.

But it doesn't change a thing. Just because she can handle one horse does not mean she would fit in with the Rohirrim. There were many pure bred stallions in Rohan and most of them were wild than tame. It wouldn't do to have the Queen of the Mark, Horse Lords of Old, lift her skirts and run at the sign of an agitated horse. And no doubt, living by the sea all her life she would never accustom herself to only seeing green grass for miles long, and the occasional hills. And as Éomer listed more problems that would arise if he did marry Lothíriel, he grew more and more confident that she would never make a good queen for Rohan.

* * *

It was the morning of the wedding and Lothíriel stretched luxuriously in her bed, the satin sheets pressing tightly around each curve of her body. Then with a loud sigh she exhaled deeply and turned her head to look out the window, just at the foot of her bed. She missed hearing the sound of sea breaking against the beach in the mornings, but she decided that for now hearing the sweet calls of birds and the sound of merriment from below would suffice until she returned. Tucking a hand behind her head, Lothíriel continued her daydreams and didn't turn when Lissesül entered.

"Good morrow, my lady," her hand maiden greeted in her soft voice. Lothíriel turned to her and smiled.

"Aye, it is indeed a good day. Is today not a perfect day for a wedding Lissesül?" Lothíriel sighed contentedly. What could be more wonderful in celebrating the end of an evil reign but with a wedding? The grandest wedding to ever be seen in Middle Earth she was certain. Lissesül laughed at her lady's expression.

"And how would my lady know how the day is when she has barely awaken and not left her bed?" teased Lissesül as she hung the dress the princess would be wearing that day on a nearby hook. Lothíriel closed her eyes and inhaled deeply.

"Because I feel it. It fills every part of my being," she said and she truly felt what she said.

"If you feel like this on another's wedding, then you would soon burst on your wedding day, my lady," said Lissesül. At the mention of her own wedding, Lothíriel felt her elation drop.

"I do not see that day coming anytime soon, so there are no worries of me bursting," she said softly. Lissesül just shook her head.

"Such talk, my lady. Gentlemen will be lining to win your hand. And from what I hear, there is already a certain king heading that line," said Lissesül. Lothíriel narrowed her eyes at the handmaiden.

"I thought elves were above idle gossip," she said and Lissesül smiled.

"There are exceptions in every rule, my lady," she answered, her smile changing to a smirk, also another non-elf trait.

"Well, then I shall inform you first hand that you are mistaken. Éomer has no interest in me except that I am Prince Imrahil's daughter and he is obliged to entertain me because of his friendship with my father," she explained and began to sit up in the process. Lissesül did not believe a word of it.

"Give it time my lady and all will fall to place as it was written by Eru," she said looking at her charge softly. At that moment Lothíriel looked like a lost lamb in between the yards of satin sheets and her hair that was tousled in every direction.

"Aye, I suppose my marriage will happen but it will not be for love, but more of a political gain among the lords in my city," she said dejectedly. Lissesül said nothing as she prepared Lothíriel's bath.

"Do you love the King?" asked Lissesül suddenly.

"Yes, I do and to him I bear my loyalties and allegiance to his wisdom and rule," she answered. Lissesül was not amused.

"I do not speak of King Elessar and you know it. I am speaking of King Éomer of the Mark," she said her tone dry. Lothíriel made an 'oh' sound, even though she was very well aware of who Lissesül had been speaking about.

"Lissesül I will say this. Éomer is truly the most handsomest and magnificent man I have ever had the pleasure to meet and I would not be a woman to say that being near him does not make me tremble a little," she said in one breath wanting to appease the handmaiden's incessant questions but then something struck her. He _was_ the handsomest man she had ever met and for the first time she could not draw a clear picture of Boromir's face. And suddenly Boromir seemed like a memory of the past while Éomer stood solid and real in her mind. But she quickly shook her head clear of it. Lissesül's words were playing with her mind.

"Your words muddle my mind, Lissesül. Do not speak of the matter anymore. Éomer will marry a Rohan lady as expected and I shall remain a Dol Amroth princess, wife to no man," she said titling her chin upwards as if challenging Lissesül to say otherwise. But the handmaiden just smiled and bowed to her mistress.

"Very well, my lady. Come a way from your bed so I may disrobe you before the water cools" she said. Lothíriel got off her bed and before long she was soaking in a hot tub as Lissesül scrubbed her back and washed her hair.

"Lissesül what will I be wearing today? I do feel wretched for imposing on Lady Arwen's hospitality. This is the third dress of the lady that I will be using," sighed Lothíriel once she had finished and dried. She had undergone the preliminaries of dressing, where layers and layers of silk petticoats were tied around her narrow waist which was encased in a corset. She had not seen the dress as Lissesül had made sure to distract her from seeing it.

"Lady Arwen does not feel the same, I assure you my lady and she is more than happy to lend you her dresses. She had this picked out for you especially," said Lissesül and removed the dress from where it was hanging to present it to Lothíriel. Lothíriel gasped when she saw it. It was the same dress she had first touched the night she arrived. The dress that was neither the color of the sea yet a mixture of its shades. Slowly her hand reached out to touch the fabric. It felt the same as it had that night. Like water running through her fingers.

"Lissesül, I can not wear it. It is too good for me," she breathed, wanting but not wanting too.

"You would offend the Lady Arwen by denying to wear this dress?" asked Lissesül in mock surprise. Lothíriel bit her lip and shook her head. Lissesül smiled and brought Lothíriel to her feet. Coaxing Lothíriel to raise her hands she slipped the dress over her head and over her body. It fitted Lothíriel like a glove. Lothíriel gaped in front on the mirror.

"Lissesül, please move, you are in my way I can not see myself," she said looking into the mirror. Lissesül laughed for she was nowhere near the mirror of Lady Lothíriel.

"I am here, my lady. That is indeed you that see in the mirror," she answered.

"Lissesül that can not be me. This dress has transformed me, I look… beautiful," she breathed tenderly touching the fold of the skirts.

"Nay, you are the beauty of the pair. This is just a dress," said Lissesül and began to comb Lothíriel's hair before styling it in some intricate style. When she was done, Lothíriel's eyes nearly fell out from it socket.

"Lissesül…" Lothíriel didn't know what to say. Her hair, the dress, herself… she had never seen herself like that. She didn't even realize Lissesül had left the room. Her hair was pilled atop her head and allowed to fall around her head in ringlets. Her blue eyes were shining in joy, the excitement staining her cheeks giving it a rosy parlor. The dress cut low over her breast moving down to mould into her form and the skirt was layers of every shade of blue, a slit in the middle to allow movement. A knock on the door but Lothíriel ignored it. She was too overwhelmed by what she saw. She couldn't remember a time when she had ever looked like that. Even during the parties in Dol Amroth, she had never. She maintained her simplicity. It helped her bond with her people so she could help them when the time came. She wasn't the only one stupefied by her looks, but from the corner of the mirror he father came into view and he too had an identical look of disbelief on his face.

"Who are you? And what have you done with my little girl?" he asked smiling broadly. Lothíriel laughed and hugged him, although not tightly as she would mess up Lissesül's work.

"Sweet Valar, Riel. Is that really you?" he said as he pulled her away from him to look at her.

"Do you approve?" she asked shyly. Imrahil laughed.

"I do not know. I am proud that my daughter is beautiful as she is wonderful yet I am scared to let you out of this room for fear some gentleman will take you away from me," he said and he ran a finger down his daughter cheek. If he had been stunned the other night, now he was astounded. Lothíriel beamed at him.

"Where have all the years gone, my daughter?" he continued. Lothíriel could feel tears prick behind her eyes and blinked fast.

"Father, just because I have grown up does not mean I am no longer your little girl. I will always be her," she said gently. Imrahil nodded.

"Yes that you will be. Now I must retrain my army to fend off suitors instead of orcs, for I am sure to encounter many of them after today," he said wryly. Lothíriel bit her lip.

"Father, I just want you to know, that I will marry any man you see fit," she said looking at her feet. Imrahil placed a finger on her chin and tilted her head up. His tone was serious.

"Riel, I will not force you into a political marriage. I swear on my honor as a knight. You will choose who you deem worthy to marry and if he never comes along, I will be more than happy to have you all to myself till the end of my days," he said and Lothíriel knew he was speaking the truth. The fact that her father trusted and loved her so much overwhelmed her that she couldn't stop a tear trickling down her cheek. Laughing a little she wiped it away.

"Thank you father. Shall we go?" she said. Imrahil nodded but then said.

"Wait, I want to give you something. It was your mothers and I have always carried it around with me. I would like you to have it," he said and reached into the pockets of his tunic. From it he took out a handkerchief. He opened it to reveal a necklace. The pendant it carried was in the shape of a swan made of blue cat-eye stone.

"It is beautiful," said Lothíriel touching the cool stone. Her father smiled and fixed it around her. Lothíriel turned once again to the mirror.

"It is not as beautiful as you, daughter," he said and kissed her forehead before extending an arm in which she looped her hand through. Together they descended towards the Palace courtyard where all the other guests had assembled. It was an open area, where borders of white roses and lilies made a large square area for the arrived guests to mingle. Imrahil lead Lothíriel through a similarly decorated arch into the crowd of guests. No sooner had the two stepped into the area, did Éomer come up to the two, a mischievous smile on his lips.

"Imrahil, you had your dear friends thinking that you would escort your daughter, instead you return with another beautiful lady on your arm. Are you eager for a mate, old friend?" laughed Éomer. Imrahil said nothing but smiled raising an eyebrow at Éomer. Éomer gave him a look then turned to the lady beside him. His jaw dropped in surprise.

"Lothíriel?" he blinked once, twice, three times. Lothíriel let out a small giggle and Imrahil held his head back and roared with laughter, causing several heads to turn to them.

"Your mouth will evermore get you in tight fix, look how you turn crimson," said Imrahil between laughs. Lothíriel caught up on her father's mood and began to laugh, although not so loud. Éomer grinned sheepishly at the two of them.

"You have made your point, Imrahil. Princess Lothíriel, I am sorry for not recognizing you before hand, although I do not know how I had done so," said Éomer gallantly and took her free hand to bestow it with a kiss. This beautiful creature was making herself hard for him to ignore and making it even harder for him to keep to his resolution. Thank the forces that allowed him and only him to hear the pounding of his heart as he looked at the princess.

Lothíriel was saying a similar prayer of thanks for she had never expected to see the King of Rohan looking so… enticing. From beneath her eyelashes she took in the strength of his broad shoulder encased in the green and gold of his colors to the muscular calves inside the dark green breeches he wore. His hair was held together in a pony tail and it glowed brighter than the morning sun. Even the hide boots he wore added to the overall image he presented. Strong, confident and oh so handsome. If her hand wasn't still on her fathers she would have sank to the ground as her knees no longer had the ability to support her weight.

"I assure you that I too had trouble recognizing myself in the beginning," she said smiling at him. The three were then joined by a fourth person.

"Princess, your beauty is putting all the other ladies to shame," said Aragorn, winking at Lothíriel as he bowed in greeting. Lothíriel responded with a curtsy.

"My King, I believe you should save your sweet talking for your wife, who I am sure will put me to shame," said Lothíriel. Aragorn laughed and then turned to Imrahil.

"Imrahil, I have news that will indeed please you and your daughter," he said smiling expectantly. Imrahil stop his laughing and fixed his attention to King Elessar. Lothíriel did the same. Even Éomer turned to the king interestedly.

"A messenger arrived but moments ago bearing the banner of the Swan Knights, announcing the soon to be arrival of your knights," said Aragorn. Lothíriel squealed in delight and gripped her father's arm. It was only the heaviness of the dress that prevented her from jumping in joy.

"Also, they are being led by the three princes of Dol Amroth," finished Aragorn. Here Lothíriel didn't jump. In fact her smile dropped tremendously.

"My King, father, King Éomer, accept my apologies. Indeed this will be a beautiful wedding, my lords, and king Elessar and queen Arwen will indeed begin the rest of their lives with love and joy. I am sorry that I can not witness the wonderful event," she said rushed and began inching away from the three men. They all looked at her in surprise and puzzlement at the suddenness of her words.

"Daughter, speak clearly, you are conversing in riddles, and not even that makes any sense," snapped Imrahil. Lothíriel sighed.

"Father, my brothers are coming! I must hide before they see me, preferably back to Dol Amroth," said Lothíriel beginning to panic. Turning to the two kings.

"My lords, you never saw me, I never came," she said and turned with full intention to flee, but Imrahil was faster. He reached out and caught a fold of her billowing sleeve and pulled her back to the small crowd. He sighed deeply as the other two men exchanged amused looks.

"Daughter explain," he sighed again. Lothíriel had turned considerably pale.

"Father, I left Dol Amroth unescorted, without permission, put myself in danger and not to mention two other soldiers, wore out my horse, and no doubt the list does grow. So father, I would like to prevent a murder… my murder should Elphir get his hands on me," she said the last bit with exasperation, as if her father was a dolt to be told all that.

"You fear your brother than you do your father?" Imrahil asked incredulously. Lothíriel gave him a kiss on the cheeks.

"Father, you are a dear, but Elphir is a brute and being a man he knows not the meaning of reason," she said.

"My lady, do you insult us?" Éomer spoke up for the first time, his face a hurt look on it. Lothíriel bit her lip. Ah, and so the princess of Dol Amroth has once again put a foot in her mouth.

"Nay my lord, I rephrase it, being a male with a younger sister makes him unreasonable," she said sweetly then slapped her forehead.

"Aye, a brother is what you are too," she said despairingly. Now she wished she was wearing her old clothes again. Somehow her appearance of a lady and her mouth of a fool did not mix well. Éomer was looking down at her, his face still the hurt look but his eyes were teasing. And for that she was at least grateful. It would be disastrous for her if the king of Rohan had no sense of humor. She opened her mouth to fix her words but the blasting of familiar trumpets caused her to close her mouth again. Her second attempt to flee was once again foiled by Imrahil's firm grip.

"I will face my end with pride," she said softly and lifted herself to her full height and tilted her chin in a dignified manner. Éomer for one moment was captivated by her royal stance and in the same moment saw the queen that was in her and that she would someday become. The sound of horses galloping into the palace courtyard turned his attention away from the princess, though only after they had all stopped in front of him and King Elessar.

There weren't many of the Swan Knights that had arrived in the entourage, probably twenty, or less, most of them a familiar face to Lothíriel and she was glad to see them safe and alive. But her joy faded when her eyes fell to the warrior leading the men. He was tall, with blackest of hairs, just brushing the collar of his tunic and eyes the color of a stormy sea. His fair looks were defined with years of hard toil and outdoor conditions. His jaw was firm, his nose straight and noble and his lips were naught more than a fine line on his face, a trait that in others would make them unadorned but in him only added to his beauty. As he leapt of his horse with grace and ease of years of experience, and began walking to her little crowd, his steps echoed with power and confidence. And this man was Elphir, Lothíriel's eldest brother and heir to Dol Amroth. Behind him, in similar clothings were her other two brothers, Erchirion and Amrothos. Though they shared their brother's looks, they were not as tall or as formidable. Lothíriel rested this detail on the fact that her other two brothers had a sense of humor where else Elphir had none.

"King Elessar, my lord and liege, I am Elphir of Dol Amroth and I present to you my brothers and my men. To you we pledge our allegiance and service and forever more remain your loyal subjects," his voice, rich and deep, rang loud and clear through the congregation. Imrahil's chest puffed out with pride as he watched his son get down to one knee his right hand on his heart as he recited his oath to the throne of Gondor and was prouder still when his other two son's and his knights followed suit. No one anywhere can say that Dol Amroth does not welcome the prophesized king.

"Elphir of Dol Amroth, rise and let it be known to all that the son's of Imrahil are welcomed, as are his men, within the walls of the White City and are herald as our kinsmen," said Aragorn his voice matching Elphir's in strength. The men around them cheered at his words and the ladies clapped with joy, some of the single ones already eyeing the three brothers. The men rose to their feet at Aragorn's beckoning and the knights were led away to join others of their stature in celebration.

"Sons, you are well, and I trust the journey was pleasant," said Imrahil for the first time addressing his sons. He had not seen them for almost as long as he had not seen his daughter for when he marched into Palennor; his sons were defending the borders of their fair city. Elphir nodded and lost some of his regal pose.

"Yes father all is well and it has become better with seeing you safe," he said and gave his father a hug. He did not care if he was showing his soft side for doing so, for he had missed his father and feared for him so much. Erchirion and Amrothos stepped up to him and Erchirion playfully pushed their brother aside.

"Aye, we agree with our brother's words. You are well and that is all that matters," said Erchirion and moved to hug his father followed by his youngest brother.

Lothíriel wiped a tear from her eyes at the exchanged between the father and his sons. And she was also relieved that her eldest brother had not turned his wrath upon her. This caused her to sigh in relief.

"Do not be relieved yet, little sister. I have not forgotten about you," Elphir's voice broke into her thoughts and her heart began to pound again. She looked up to her brother and tried to smile sweetly. But her nervousness made it come out wobbly.

"Brother, please understand. I didn't mean to disobey or such but…" Lothíriel's words were cut off as her brother pulled her into a tight hug.

"Riel, my heart nearly stopped when they told me you had gone by yourself, and I swear I have spurted grey hairs from the worry. I do understand, sister, but such recklessness," whispered Elphir into her ear, his words coated with so much love for her that she began to tear.

"I am sorry," she whispered back and tears flowed down her cheeks. He pulled away from her and stared deep into her blue ones.

"But I swear if you do that to me again I will lock you in a chest and send you adrift, is that understood?" he said sternly. She didn't believe a word he said but she nodded.

"I thank you brother for sparring me, I am grateful, I really am," she said meekly and Elphir laughed.

"Elphir, stop terrorizing our sister and let us have a look at her," suddenly Elphir was pushed away again by Erchirion again and she was then faced with her two other brothers.

"Chirion, Amer, how wonderful to see you well," she said and wrapped her arms around both their necks. The two brothers returned her hug with equal ferocity, and then pulled back.

"Riel, look at you. You're no longer our dirty little sister, but a lady of the court," said Amrothos, shaking his head at the sudden change of his sister. Lothíriel beamed at her brothers words and the two gasped inwardly at how the rosy cheeks changed their sister's complexion completely. They began to see her as they would the other beautiful ladies in Dol Amroth. A fierce wave of possessiveness washed over the brothers and now they began to understand their eldest brother's firm grip on their sister's life. For Elphir had seen the beauty Lothíriel would grow into and had built a wariness against potential suitors when Lothíriel was a young girl. Erchirion had to fight down the urge to drape his cloak around his sister and lock her in a room where only immediate families could visit. Amrothos began looking over his sister's head and had an overwhelming feeling to hit all the men who were looking at her. Elphir however had his eyes fixed solely on the blond stranger who had yet to take his eyes off their sister and Elphir was not happy with what he saw in the man's eyes.

Imrahil had stepped back a little during his children's reunion and was very interested in seeing their reactions. There was nothing that he had not suspected. Imrahil purposely delayed in introducing Éomer to his son's and Elphir's reaction, the animosity in his looks towards the King of Rohan, who still fixed his eyes on Lothíriel, was not unexpected. And neither were the protective looks of his other two sons towards their sister who they suddenly realized was in fact a lady and a beautiful one at that. He had half a mind to leave the four to settle their differences but then remembered that Elphir was not the epitome of reason and thought otherwise. At least Éomer's rank would keep his eldest son at bay.

"Sons, leave your sister be and allow me to introduce you to King Éomer of Riddermark," Imrahil's voice broke into the thoughts of his three sons. Lothíriel breathed a sigh of relief at her father's quick save for she too had noticed her brother's sudden change and was now in despair that she would have to handle three overbearing brothers rather than Elphir alone. Éomer, hearing his name turned away from the princess and turned instead to look at the three brothers.

"Éomer, my sons, Elphir my heir, Erchirion second born and my youngest Amrothos," said Imrahil. Éomer bowed low to the three men and was replied in the same way.

"King Éomer, it is an honor to meet you. We have heard many tales of the great Third Marshal of Riddermark," said Erchirion and gave the king a big smile. Amrothos nodded and also smiled at the young king. Only Elphir remained stoic and only briefly nodded. Éomer laughed.

"Those were the good days gone away, my lords. Now I am not allowed to ride further than my palace, and I fear I am starting to get soft as a princess" he added ruefully. Erchirion and Amrothos laughed at his words and even more at Lothíriel's protest.

"King Éomer, you would insult me?" she said pouting her lips a little. Éomer smiled and took her hand.

"How careless of me, of course when I said princess I meant in a good way, a privilege," he said to her. Lothíriel pulled her hand away.

"Beware your sugar coated tongue does not give you toothaches, my lord," she said but broke into a smile. Neither of them saw Elphir beginning to bristle.

"Eli, Amer, it is our cousin, come let us greet him. Excuse us, my lord, and we shall see you later, sister," Erchirion said and with a quick bow he headed of in a small run towards his cousin. Amrothos followed seconds later but Elphir made no move to follow his brothers. Instead he fixed his stormy eyes on the king Rohan.

"King Éomer, so how do the people of Rohan fare with the end of the war?" he asked his tone civil enough but Lothíriel heard the hard edge in it.

"When I left, we had just recovered from an attack of the dark forces, but messages have arrived from my advisers and in it he tells me that Riddermark is slowly beginning to mend, in the city and in the people," answered the king, straightening to his full height and looking at the Dol Amroth prince straight in the eyes. They had no idea that they had caught the attention of every single female in the vicinity, married or not. Éomer's gold fairness contrasted strongly with Elphir's raven looks, bringing out the qualities in each of them and enhancing their splendor and good looks even more. Lothíriel was momentarily speechless as she watched the two. She had never noticed how handsome her brother was. But the tension emanating from them brought back her speech ability.

"Brother, have you been to Rohan before?" she asked. Elphir turned to her and his features softened.

"No, unfortunately my duty has not brought me as far as the golden city," he said.

"Meduseld will always be open to the sons of Imrahil… and his daughter," said Éomer and as he said the last bit he turned to smile at Lothíriel. Lothíriel smiled prettily back at him. Elphir made a resolution to not let Lothíriel anywhere near 500 leagues of the city. He turned to his sister to ask her to join their father for he didn't like the exchange between the two. But instead his eyes caught sight of the shiny object and his eyes misted over with memories.

"You are wearing mother's necklace," he said softly. Lothíriel's hand flew up to it and she nodded.

"Father gave it to me this morning," she replied.

"Its beauty suits your eyes," Éomer added in as he too looked at the pendant hanging around Lothíriel's neck. But his eyes flew upwards when a hand was placed roughly on his chest. He looked into the angry eyes of Elphir.

"Watch where you place your eyes, for I do not trust them to not stray," he hissed to Éomer. Éomer's clear blue eyes clouded with equal anger for he did not miss what the prince was implying. He was about to retort back when Lothíriel, who had also heard the words of her brother, pushed in between them, using her frame to separate them.

"Brother, you have yet to greet our cousin. He is standing there alone, I suggest you go and join him," she said, her tone angry. How dare her brother embarrass her like that? Elphir turned briefly to look at Faramir, before turning back to the young king.

"I'll be watching you, _King Éomer_," he said with mock politeness and then strode away from them. Lothíriel let out a sigh.

"King Éomer, I apologize for my brother's words. He is unreasonable when it concerns me," she said casting Éomer a fearful look. Éomer who had kept his eyes on the prince's back turned to look down at her. At the sight of her troubled face, his features immediately softened and his anger ebbed away.

"You do not have to apologize, princess. As I brother, I can understand," he said and gave her a winning smile to show that he had taken no offense of her brother nor did he hold her responsible for it. Lothíriel felt relived and smiled back at Éomer.

From the other end of the gathering, Faramir was looking at the exchange between his cousin and the King of Mark with unabashed interest. He may not be able to hear the words his hot tempered cousin gave the king, but he had a brief idea of it and he didn't know whether Elphir was gallant in his actions or just plain stupid. He watched Elphir leave the small group and head his way.

"Cousin, how do you fare?" he called out in greeting. He watched as Elphir's stony look dissolve into a familiar grin, albeit a little stiff.

"Hail, Steward of Gondor," responded Elphir and stopped in front of his cousin, his head bowed and a hand on his heart, a mark of loyalty to the ruling steward.

"Cease that, Elphir. We are kin, I value that more that your allegiance," scoffed a slightly embarrassed Faramir as he gathered his cousin into a hug. Elphir replied to the hug with one of his own hearty one.

"You are ever the humble of the two," he said and then his smile dropped.

"My condolences on your loss. I feel it as a loss of my own too, as I have fought along side your brother in many battles," he said gravely. Faramir nodded with equal gravity before breaking into a smile.

"Thank you, but do not let it dampen your days here. Boromir died as he had lived, with a sword in his hand and in battle," said Faramir.

"An optimistic as well as humble, you are one of a kind cousin," said Elphir. Faramir laughed.

"I am a simple man, a victim of circumstances that have landed me the title of steward," said Faramir with honesty. Elphir did not question his words. He knew Faramir would give up the stewardship for the return of Boromir.

"You deserve what gift you are given, for you are the only one I believe deserves to gain happiness from such tragedy," said Elphir. Faramir laughed at his words.

"I do not agree for I can name many others, and one of them being a certain king you so foolishly provoked," he said this in a wry tone. Elphir's cheery countenance faded to be replaced with annoyance as he turned away from the Faramir to look at Lothíriel and Éomer. Lothíriel was laughing at something Éomer was saying.

"She glows under his attention don't you agree?" said Faramir softly. Elphir growled.

"The light makes her appear so, it has nothing to do with that man," he replied. Faramir snorted. Of course Elphir would not agree to such a thing. Faramir knew it wasn't a personal dislike to the king but Elphir had disliked any man who dared to be near his sister. He remembered how Boromir had been at the receiving end of Elphir's fist until he had managed to convince the Dol Amroth prince that he was mistaken. After that Elphir and Boromir had been nearly inseparable, going on orc hunts together and responding to each other's call for help during battles.

"You do not approve of him only because he shows interest in your sister," said Faramir. Elphir shrugged. He won't deny it, but he disliked how Faramir made it sound.

"Faramir, when will you introduce me to your betrothed? I am eager to meet the lady who slain the Witch King when so many seasoned soldiers have failed," Elphir said in an attempt to change the topic, although his eyes never left his sister and the King.

"I do not know cousin, I do not trust you at this moment," said Faramir, narrowing his eyes at Elphir. That jolted Elphir.

"And what have I done to lose your trust, Faramir," he asked visibly troubled by the stewards words. Faramir laughed at the shock and hurt in Elphir's eyes.

"Nay, my words came out wrong. Of course I trust you, but what I mean I do not trust you to not pass a barb remark to her," he said. Elphir's hurt look was replaced with puzzlement.

"Faramir I can assure I have never let a crass remark escape my lips in the presence of a lady," he said.

"Even to the sister of the man you look daggers at?" inquired Faramir, raising an eyebrow. Elphir's face cleared in understanding.

"Ah, I see. If I give you my solemn promise to be good will you introduce me to your lady?" asked Elphir and he put on a pleading little boy face. Faramir laughed and clasped his cousin's shoulder.

"How can I resist? Aye, come, she is over there," said Faramir and began moving away from their spot. And away from Lothíriel and Éomer. Elphir hesitated for he did not want to lose sight of his sister. But Faramir's hard tug on his tunic sleeve caused him to move and follow Faramir towards the Lady Éowyn.

End of Chapter 3

(7,374 words)


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four

Lothíriel took her place between her father and eldest brother Elphir, who were standing among a few other nobilities. Seeing that they were high up in the hierarchy ladder as well as being close friends of the king, they were granted places right in front of the congregation, where Aragorn, a little pale and nervous but with a whole lot of happiness shining on his face, stood waiting for his future wife and Queen of Gondor. Also granted this special privilege was Éomer, the fellowship and of course Éowyn. Faramir, as custom would make it, stood next to the king, performing dual duties; one as a stand in to what should have been Aragorn's father's position and second as the steward, representative of his people in pledging loyalty as well as crowning Lady Arwen. It would be a simple ceremony, with the giving away of the bride and bridegroom followed by the exchange of wedding oaths and finally the coronation of Lady Arwen to Queen Arwen. And then the reception shall go straight into the night and for some, into the early dawn.

A sudden blast of elven trumpet caused the excited chattering to die down and slowly the crowd began to part, forming a path and right at the end of the path was Arwen, being led by her father, Lord Elrond, and her grandmother following behind. A chorus of awed gasps rose from all those who laid eyes on her, for never had the eyes of Illuvatar's second children seen anything so fair and lovely. Even the beautiful Lady of the Light paled in comparison. And as she proceeded down towards where Aragorn stood, whose jaw was hanging a little off its hinges, the lords and ladies bowed low as she passed them. Just as she walked by Lothíriel and her family, Lothíriel heard Erchirion whisper to Elphir,

"How come the Valars don't make ladies like that in Dol Amroth?"

Imrahil shot his second son a look of silence and turned his head back to the front of the congregation where lord Elrond, whom had just arrived with the Lady Galadriel and several other elves, hand over his daughter to the King of the Reunited Lands. Aragorn and Arwen stood facing each other, their hands clasped tightly together, their gazes locked onto one another. Lord Elrond and Lord Faramir in turns recited the words that had been said by fathers of old, binding the souls of the two people in front of them, uniting them in eternity of love. Oaths of undying love and loyalty, promises to protect and to cherish one another were then recited by the king and his bride, and a gold band was exchanged just before a kiss to seal the union.

Although their marriage was indeed official, there was silence, it was not time for rejoicing yet as now lady Arwen must give herself to the people of Gondor as their queen. She had been briefed on the crowning ceremony so there had been no need to prompt her now. Readjusting her skirts, she knelt before the ruling steward.

"Lady Arwen how do you pledge?" he asks. With her head held high with poise and dignity, Arwen spoke.

"I pledge to King Elessar and his people as their queen, and never will I compromise the safety of my people, and shall forever more promise to rule by my husband and king's side in justice and wisdom," said Arwen, and her words, like musical notes of hope, seeped into the hearts of all those who heard it and no longer did the future seem so bleak. Faramir broke into a smile and gracefully placed a crown of white silver, some said to be made of mithril, onto Arwen's head.

"By the will of the people and their loyalty to the throne, I, Faramir son of Denethor, steward of Gondor, give you this crown, and claim to all who live under the banner of the White Tree, hail Queen Arwen of Gondor and the Unified Lands," and with these words, announced loud and clear by Faramir did the people bring their voices together, loud and strong and as one, nobility and peasant acknowledge their new queen. Finally, the ceremony was over and the celebrations to begin. Imrahil left his initial position and made his way to the newly weds, who were at that moment talking to Faramir and Éowyn, looking happy and very much in love.

"Your majesty," he said his tone low with respect. Arwen turned to him and smiled. He took her hand and kissed the back of it,

"My city is at your disposal," he said, his head low.

"Thank you, prince Imrahil, but please enough of this court decorum, I would much prefer the camaraderie we shared but not a day ago," said Arwen with a laugh. Imrahil looked at her and returned her smile.

"I agree, all this bowing is giving me a backache," said Éowyn, much to Faramir's chagrin, but her words were received with laughter from the others. They were soon joined by Lothíriel who dropped into a curtsy in front of Arwen.

"Your majesty," she said, but Arwen reached out and pulled her into a hug, much to the younger lady's surprise but delight.

"To you and my friends, I am Arwen, so please, call me so," she said. Lothíriel blinked for a while but then nodded and grinned broadly.

"If you would require any assistance, I would be glad to assist, queen… um, Arwen," said Lothíriel, smiling shyly at the use of such an informal way of addressing her queen. But Arwen beamed at her and nodded.

"Thank you for your offer, for there is much I do not know of Gondorian court life, and would be grateful for your assistance," she said. But a loud snort from behind Lothíriel indicated the arrival of her brothers. Or at least one of them, as her two eldest had somewhat been detained by some very ambitious, single ladies. Amrothos was lucky to have been able to evade their claws.

"Your majesty, maybe you should not be too quick with your words, for I believe my sister, lovely as she is, knows even less than you," said Amrothos, and he too like his father, bent down and took Arwen's hand for a kiss. Lothíriel went scarlet at the words of her brother, mainly because it was true, but Arwen did not laugh at the jesting words.

"That may perhaps be true, but maybe Lothíriel's fate is not entwined with the courts of Gondor, for then such knowledge would be useless," said Arwen raising her eyebrows. Lothíriel was confused by her words. Where else would she be but under the scrutinizing eye of the court? Imrahil who had been talking to Aragorn and Faramir turned to Arwen, he too having the same thoughts as his daughter.

"Do you see what the future holds for my daughter, your majesty?" he asked, cocking an eyebrow towards Lothíriel. She just lifted her shoulders, but Arwen had taken a mysterious look.

"So would many of you, should you choose to see it too," was all she said. Aragorn just laughed at her cryptic words and the confused looks of his friends and took his wife's hand and placed it on his arm.

"Come now friends, let us move to the Grand Hall for feasting and merriment," he said and lead the small group towards the hall. When they got there, it was already packed with people eating and talking gaily. It only stopped temporarily when Aragorn and Arwen entered but once the two and their friends had been seated at the main table, the chatter and music continued.

* * *

Lothíriel was overwhelmed by the scene in front of her. Due to the continuous danger imposed on her city, Lothíriel had spent most of her years as a child behind the safety of her city walls, venturing only very seldom to the White City and when she was old enough to attend such gala events, darkness had befallen them and there had been no reasons for such celebrations.

"How do you fare, swan?" asked Imrahil, looking down at his bewildered daughter, her eyes wide as if trying to see everything at once. She turned those big eyes to him.

"I am overwhelmed. I have never seen such celebrations," she answered back. Imrahil laughed.

"Well, I can assure you that this will be the first of many others, for your cousin and lady Éowyn are due next, and I have no doubt their wedding will be as grand," he said and motioned to the couple who sat a little further down, very much in their own little world. Lothíriel couldn't help sigh. Although she was happy for him, in a way she envied the two. They were so perfect for each other, like they had been created just for each other. It made her wonder if she'll ever find her other half. And as she thought these words she couldn't help but turn her gaze briefly to the tall Rohirrim, who was sitting next to his sister, caught up in a heated discussion with Gimli.

Her look was not lost to her father and inwardly Imrahil sighed. Despite her words and denial, he could sense her budding feelings to the King of Mark, and was sure that Éomer returned those feelings, even though he continued with his rubbish about marrying a Rohirrim lady. Arwen's words were not completely lost to him and he felt he had an idea to which royal court Queen Arwen had linked his daughter too. And when that day arrives, Imrahil will have to fight the hardest battle yet, to release his daughter to another man. But those fears were for the future, he had the present to spend with his daughter and he would make use of each and every one of them. Focusing back to the celebrations at hand, he realized that the floor had been cleared and the king and his queen were on the dance floor, swaying to an old tune.

"Swan, would you give an old man the honor of this dance?" he asked her. Lothíriel laughed at his words and nodded.

"If you are sure you can keep up," she replied and the two joined the newly weds and several other couples on the dance floor. Lothíriel was content. Her father had returned to her safe and well, her brothers were with her, she had made new friends and Dol Amroth would be at peace again. Leaning against her fathers shoulder she allowed the gentle music to fill her as she swayed to the melody. But then the music ended to be replaced by a more fast pace song. All around her the dancers began to quicken their pace to the new beat and Lothíriel looked up at her father expectedly.

"Let's show them how it's done," whispered her father and winked. Letting out a whoop of joy, the two joined in the group of dancers, matching even the youngest of the dancers in rhythm and stamina. Together they twirled and skipped, spun and sped, weaving in and out of the others, and continued to stay on the dance floor even after many of their own friends had retired to catch their breaths. However, after many songs later, Imrahil's age began to catch up with him and had to, unwillingly, join his friends at the tables and rest his pounding heart. Lothíriel followed her father also, just to save him a little face although she couldn't stop laughing at him.

"Hail, Imrahil, so you have finally realized that you are no longer a young man, but a father of four?" Éomer called out from the table where he and the others of their close knit circle were seated. This caused Lothíriel to laugh harder but she quickly stepped up in defense of her father.

"Nay my lord, my father would have stayed the whole night if I had not pleaded for a moment's breather," she replied smiling happily.

"At least I am capable of lasting three songs after siring four children, you however old friend, have yet to last one and you are not even with a wife," the prince retorted back. But his words fell on deaf ears for Éomer was looking at Lothíriel with a goofy smile, his eyes quite glazed over and hardly heard Imrahil's words.

"A disposition I am sure is about to change," muttered Imrahil, much to Lothíriel's embarrassment and the other's amusement. Eventually Éowyn gave her brother a hard dig in the ribs. Éomer snapped out of his reverie and turned back to the group, not knowing what had taken place but not liking the smug looks on the faces of his friends, save Lothíriel who was red as a tomato and Imrahil who had an air of despair around him even though he shot Éomer a somewhat sympathetic look.

"Did I miss something?" he asked uncomfortably and ran a hand through his hair. Aragorn couldn't help it. He burst into laughter and before long so did everyone else. Éomer's increasing puzzled look only increased the laughter. Even Lothíriel couldn't help grinning. Finally Éowyn, who was leaning on Faramir for support manage to pant out.

"I can not take any more of this, Faramir please ask me for a dance before I burst my chest, I can barely breathed," she said. Faramir still laughing lead his betrothed to the dance floor and it took a couple of second for the two to co-ordinate themselves with the other dancers as they were still laughing. Lothíriel, still blushing hard, excused herself in the pretense that she needed a drink and headed off to the refreshment table.

"What was that about?" Éomer asked the remaining people. Imrahil chuckled and gave Éomer a pat on the shoulder before heading of to meet another friend he had just spotted in the crowd. Arwen placed a hand on his arm.

"Do not mind your sister, Éomer, she is just caught up with the festivities, and the anticipation that it will be her wedding soon," said the queen gently. Éomer just grunted.

"Speaking of marriages, friend," suddenly Aragorn began. Éomer shot his a warning glance.

"Don't even start, Aragorn," he warned, but Aragorn ignored him.

"Éomer, you have to start thinking about taking a wife and siring an heir," continued the Gondor King. Éomer groaned and buried his head in his hands.

"Aragorn, you and my sister were lucky to find the special someone so quickly in your lives. Some of us less fortunate ones have to continue searching and may never find… that special one," said Éomer, looking at the two. Aragorn opened his mouth to say more but Arwen stopped him.

"Éomer if you are going to search with your eyes closed, then yes, you will never find her. But perhaps a simple request for a dance would end your long search," said Arwen and Éomer found himself turning towards the refreshment table to linger on the back of a certain princess.

"Come my love, you have done all that could be done, it is up to him now to make the final decision," whispered Aragorn to Arwen and she tilted her head up towards him. Ignoring that they were in a room full of people, Aragorn bent down and pressed a tender kiss on his wife's lips.

"Dance with me?" he whispered, his eyes shining into hers, each reflecting the other's love in their eyes.

"Till the end of Arda," she whispered back and allowed him to help her up and lead her to the dance floor to join the other dancing couples. As for Éomer, he was too busy with his thoughts and barely noticed the departure of King and Queen of Gondor. All he could see was Lothíriel.

* * *

Across the room, oblivious to the penetrating gaze of the Rohan King, the Dol Amroth princess was lost in her own thoughts. She did not know what to make of the look that had been on Éomer's face. Her heart began to beat faster as she thought of it more. His facial expression… well, was one the one that Faramir wore when he looked onto the fair lady Éowyn. Lothíriel's heart increased further in speed. Inhaling deeply, she closed her eyes and waited for her heart to resume the normal pace, then opened her eyes and fixed it onto the crowd in front of her and not on where she had just come from.

_You are threading on dangerous grounds, Riel. You know where Éomer stands on the issue of marriage, yet you are willing to set yourself up for heartbreak. Hasn't your poor heart suffered enough with Boromir's death? Would you subject it to further anguish by falling for the king, knowing he will reject you anyways? _The sensible side of her scolded.

But the way he looked at me… like I was the only one for him… his special someone… she argued back.

_Wake up, princess! He is a man and he is unattached, it comes natural to him. Do not let him play you for a fool!_

She let out a sigh. As usual her sensible side, which she rarely listened to, was right. Éomer had an obligation to his people and she… would marry a noble man from Dol Amroth as was expected of her. And besides, could she really spend the remaining of her life so far from her beloved sea? She had only been at the White City three days and already her longing for the sea filled her heart and soul. Nay, nothing good could come out from her marriage with the Rohirrim. Once she returns to Dol Amroth she'll just have to get over her infatuation for Éomer. So lost was she in her thoughts that she did not realize the arrival of one of her brothers.

"Sister, why are you not dancing in the arms of a handsome gentleman?" Amrothos teasing voice brought her back to reality. She turned to him, a huge smile on her face.

"Alas, the only handsome gentlemen here are my brothers and they each are busy with the other much lovelier ladies in the room," she answered. Amrothos chuckled and took her hand to his lips.

"There are no ladies here more beautiful than you, sister," he said.

"Not even the Lady Galadriel and Queen Arwen?" she asked, an eyebrow arched upwards. Amrothos turned to look at the small congregation of elves still at the main table. Lady Galadriel was talking with the elf prince and a smitten dwarf, while Lord Elrond was laughing at something with prince Imrahil and one of Gondor's many advisers.

"Well, maybe there are exceptions," he said after a while. Lothíriel pulled her hand away and pouted. Amrothos laughed softly at her face and pulled her into a hug.

"It is good to be with you again, Riel, I have missed you much," he said. Lothíriel returned his hug and hooked an arm around his waist, his arm around her shoulder, for as tall as she was, her brothers were taller and her father taller still.

"I have missed you too, Amer, and Eli and Chirion," she said wistfully, scanning the room for her other two brothers. Erchirion was at one table surrounded by several court ladies, all fawning over him. And by the looks of his smug smile, he was enjoying every moment of it. As for her serious brother, he had joined their father and lord Elrond, no doubt talking of things that were _not_ fun related.

"Have I told you how glad I am that you are all safe and with me again?" she asked looking up at him. Amrothos shook his head.

"Not in the last hour," he answered.

"Well, I am glad, and if I never marry I would be content knowing I will live the ends of my life with my wonderful brothers," she said. At those words Amrothos loosened his hold of her and turned to look at her fully.

"And where did such talk come from?" he asked, visibly surprised. His sister not finding a match? Preposterous. Any man would be blessed to have her as a wife. Lothíriel shifted uncomfortably. She hadn't meant to say such things but with her emotions in a muddle, the words slipped out.

"They are only words, Amer, of course I would marry whoever father deems suitable," she responded hoping her brother would drop the subject.

"Suitable? Riel is father arranging a match for you?" he asked, completely bewildered. It was not like his father at all to force any of his children into doing anything. Lothíriel's eyes widen at such a thing.

"No, father would never do that. He's a dear, and beside he promised I would marry whom I thought was for me," she half cried. Amrothos sighed in relief. That was good to know, so why was his sister so pessimistic about marriage … oh, Boromir.

"Riel, don't carry the burden of the dead on your shoulders. Leave the past in the past and don't let the death of a loved one stop you from finding a new love," he said to her, tightening back his hold on her. Now it was Lothíriel's turn to be stumped.

"What do you mean Amer? Are you drunk?" she asked incredulously.

"No, you will not marry for love because of Boromir's death right? I know you love him," answered Amrothos, looking tenderly at his sister. But Lothíriel shook her head.

"Nay you are mistaken. I have come to terms with that and I release my love for him. I will always carry him in my heart, but I will not bind him to my grief and tears anymore. I close that chapter in my life and with the passing of the dark times, I open a new one," she said and placed her head on her brothers shoulder. They were silent for a while as they watched the people enjoying themselves, contented at that moment to hold each other and be in each other's company. Then Lothíriel lifted her head.

"Tell me, is my secret love obvious to all?" she asked. Amrothos grinned. Like a mad Oliphant running through a meadow, he thought.

"Aye, it was a known fact. You do not hide your feelings well," he answered and Lothíriel cringed. How mortifying.

"Eli knew too?" she asked, using the sibling name for Elphir. Amrothos snorted.

"If Boromir was alive today, he could show you the scars our dear brother drew on him. No orc could do better," said Amrothos wryly. Lothíriel did not know whether to laugh or flinch.

"At least he has no one else to direct his excessive over protectiveness now," she said. Amrothos looked thoughtful then turned to a point pass Lothíriel's shoulder. He was still looking at them.

"I wouldn't say that dear sister, for I believe our dear brother has turned his excessive over protectiveness, as you call it, to the plains of Riddermark, or more accurately to the man sitting of the throne of Riddermark. King Éomer has taken quite a fancy to you hasn't he?" he answered. This time Lothíriel chose to flinch.

"Amer, do you hear your words? They are nonsense, Éomer has no such feelings," she hissed. Amrothos raised an eyebrow at her.

"Is that so? Then pray tell why hasn't he, for a moment, taken his eyes of you since you left the table?" he asked. Lothíriel's heart began to speed again. Éomer was looking at her? No, it wasn't possible.

"Amer, your eyes are crooked. He is looking at someone else, I am sure," she whispered, even though Éomer was very much out of hearing range. Amrothos looked around them and snorted.

"Unless he has an unhealthy love for the man tending the bar, I would say he is looking at you, dear sister," replied Amrothos, looking down at his perturbed sister, not knowing whether to be amused or not. He chose to be amused, as he could see Lothíriel wasn't.

"Maybe his love is for you, dear brother," she replied sardonically. She could see her brother was enjoying her flabbergastedness. Amrothos eyes flicked pass her for a moment before returning to his sisters.

"Well, we shall soon find out, as he seems to be making his way here, most probably with a dance proposition," he answered. Lothíriel's eyes widen. Oh sweet Eru, Éomer was coming towards them?

"He's going to ask me to dance?" she cried softly, completely forgetting her earlier denials. Amrothos put on a hurt expression.

"But I thought you said he was interested in me?" he pouted then laughed when his sister playfully smacked his arm. But then his smile stiffened and Lothíriel seeing the change, turned around quickly, straight into Elphir's chest.

"Hello Amer, Riel," he greeted them. Amrothos returned the greeting but Lothíriel was more interested in looking pass her brothers shoulder. Moving aside slightly she saw Éomer… stop in his tracks and then move away from them.

"Greetings Eli," she said trying to keep the despair out of her voice. Curse her brother for his untimely arrival.

"Amer you have kept Riel to yourself for too long, I will claim her now for a dance. Will you grant your brother a dance?" asked Elphir putting on a sad puppy dog face to her. Lothíriel laughed and she could never stay upset at her brother for long. Looping a hand around the proffered arm, she let him lead her to the dance floor.

Amrothos just looked at their receding forms, anger welling inside him. He knew Elphir had seen Éomer make a move towards them with the purpose of engaging Lothíriel in a dance. As much as he loved Elphir, he despised the way Elphir kept Lothíriel from socializing with any males and letting her find some resemblance of a romance. And this time, Elphir's interference may cost Lothíriel the only man worthy of her love.

_No,_ he thought, _not this time dear brother._

* * *

Éomer wanted to kick himself for letting Arwen's words get to him. He had actually thought that maybe Lothíriel was the one for him, and was about to throw duty to the orcs. He was so close to asking her for a dance and perhaps a place in her heart. And if Elphir hadn't appeared at that moment, he would have gone ahead and done just that. Suddenly, Éomer did not feel like celebrating anymore. Weaving through the crowds, making sure to evade his friends who would undoubtedly prevent his leaving, he made his way out of the grand hall and onto the verandah. It was quiet out here as the party was focused inside than outside. Only a few people were mingling around, not enough to disturb his need for solace. Perching himself onto the concrete banister, he looked out towards the plains in front of him. It had surprised him to see the sun had begun to set beyond the horizons, casting streaks of gold, orange and pink onto the sky. He rested his head on the pillar, letting his thoughts take flight.

He would have to begin preparations to return to Rohan tomorrow, and arrange for his uncle's burial. Théoden shall be buried by the grave of his son and Éomer hoped that his uncle would finally find peace and perhaps his son in the House of Lords, where the other departed Kings of Mark resided. And he, sister son of Théoden, will take up the crown as the new king. Éomer let out a weary sigh. This time last year, the thought that he would be king had never even crossed his mind. His cousin was still alive, and his uncle still free of Wormtongue's poison. How so much could change in twelve months. The only person who had truly benefited from it all was Éowyn, for finally she could be herself and no longer be the white bird trapped in a man's cage. He had no doubt that Faramir would allow Éowyn to fly free for he knew at the end of the day Éowyn will always return to him. And Éomer was glad that such a man existed, for it would take such a man as Faramir to calm the restless spirit that was his sister.

_And what about you, Éomer?__ Who will tame the wild stallion within you? _A voice in his head spoke.

He sighed again. Even though Arwen was wrong about him eventually finding the suitable mate, Aragorn was right in saying that he needed an heir. And for that, he needed a wife and a queen for his people. Battle strategies were less complicated than finding a wife. He began to mentally list down the ladies he had acquainted with while attending court in Meduseld, but for the love of Eorl, he couldn't think of a single one. All he could come up with was a list of the cities brothel women who had been more than willing to warm the bed of a handsome warrior. All the court ladies had preferred Theodred, as he was of course, crown prince. Those thoughts made Éomer groan. Horse crap, now that he was king, no doubt the same attention would be lavished on him, with each of them hoping to secure a place on the throne beside him. Not a single one of them will want him for who he was and he will marry one of the power hungry wargs and regret it for the rest of his life. Indeed his future seemed grim. If only he were still the Third Marshal. If he were the third marshal still, he would pursue Lothíriel so hard she would agree to marry him just to get him off her back.

The intensity of those thoughts stunned him, but he couldn't bring himself to retract those words. Just for tonight, he thought. Just for tonight, in his mind, he would forget that he wasn't required to marry some Rohirrim lady and was instead allowed to hold the Dol Amroth princess in his arms, and just for tonight he could pretend in his mind that she belonged only to him.

Éowyn had seen her brother walk out of the hall and it tore her insides to see him so confused and sad. Poor Éomer, she thought. She had to help him. It was so obvious that Éomer was very much besotted by the young princess but his sense of duty to the people of Rohan prevented him from acting out the will of his heart. Resting her head on her betrothed's shoulder, trying hard to think of a plan.

"Are you tired my love?" Faramir asked as he felt Éowyn's head on his shoulders. She lifted them off again so she could look at him.

"Nay, I am not tired, only Éomer has left the hall and I believe he is not in the best of moods," she said sadly. Taking a bold move, Faramir leaned down and gently kissed her.

"A heavy burden now lies on his shoulders, I can imagine his anxiety, for he has not been trained for such responsibility," said Faramir. Éowyn nodded and the calmness of her lover easing the storm inside her.

"You are in the same boat, yet you do not wonder off by yourself," she argued back… just for the sake of it. And as usual Faramir fell bait for it.

"But I have you by my side, and when you are near, I feel like I could bring down Sauron with my bare hands," he answered. Éowyn scoffed at his words, even though inside she blossomed under it.

"Such pretty words my lord, how many ladies I wonder have you used them on," she said, smiling at him. He took on a thoughtful face,

"With you, I believe… one," he answered and once again planted a kiss on her lips. This time she was not too ready to release him. Snaking an arm around his head she pulled his closer to her and the originally chaste kiss deepened into one of passion. A passion that grew in intensity when he responded by wrapping his arms around her waist. They would have gone on and probably a step further if a loud cough hadn't interrupted them. Pulling away, it took quite a while for the two to regain their bearings and focus on the man in front of them.

"Uncle," said Faramir as he recovered first and began to quickly fix back his clothing's to a respectable sight. Éowyn, who recovered shortly after him, followed his lead in fixing her dress and was somewhat glad that Éomer had stepped out. It didn't stop her however from blushing a bright shade of red, matched by the color of Faramir's own cheeks.

"Prince Imrahil," she said keeping her eyes on the ground, but she knew that most of the people had their eyes fixed on her and Faramir.

"I believe your wedding isn't due till three weeks from now, nephew," he said sternly, his brow furrowed as he looked at the two. Faramir nodded, and felt like a young boy again, caught doing something he shouldn't have. Éowyn felt pretty much the same.

"Then I would ask you both to conduct yourself in an appropriate manner until then," he continued. Faramir and Éowyn nodded again. With one last look at the two of them, Imrahil moved away, quickly so the two wouldn't see his lips twitch in a smile. The music resumed and the chatter continued although many glances were thrown at them and a few mischievous winks as well. Just then Lothíriel came up to them.

"Do not mind him, Éowyn; he is all bark and no bite. He is truly happy to see how happy you have made Faramir," she said. Éowyn smiled gratefully at Lothíriel's words, but it dropped a little when she looked into the eyes of the princess. For although the princess wore a bright smile, her eyes were filled with envy and sadness, not unlike Éomer's.

* * *

She was tired. She was beyond tired, that her legs could no longer support her body. So far she had danced with all her brothers twice, her father three, King Elessar once, Legolas several, Lord Elrond once and even the hobbit Pippin once. And that's not counting the numerous Gondor gentlemen in between. Now all she wanted to do was slip out onto the verandah and catch her breath. However, to do so wasn't as easy as one would think. On the way from where she had stood to the doors leading outside, she was engaged in several groups, mostly women who wanted to know if her brothers were promised, a few overly ambitious gentlemen, a dance with one of her father's old war friend, more chatting with friends of her friends but eventually she managed to evade the people and step out into the night. It was dark on the verandah, she could barely see what lay in front of her, but she had faith in the Gondor soldiers and had no fear in coming out by herself. Inhaling the sweet smell of fresh air, Lothíriel walked towards the stone railings and look to the grounds below her. There was as much celebrating among the people in the city as there was in the palace. She couldn't help smile as she listened to the faint sounds of cheers coming from them. She had no doubt the scene on the Dol Amroth streets, or actually the beach, were the same and in a way she wished she was there to celebrate with them. She then directed her gaze upwards away from the busy street.

It was indeed a beautiful night. The stars twinkled brightly against the velvet sky and the moon was a perfect orb in the sky, washing the white city and all around it in its ethereal glow. A perfect night for lovers, she thought sadly.

"Lothíriel?" a voice in the dark startled her out of her reverie. Suddenly the dark didn't seem so beautiful anymore and she became aware of the dangers that usually accompanied the darkness. But at that moment, the moon decided to shower her and the faceless voice with its beam and slowly a silhouette of a man appeared before her. She released a relieved sigh when she saw the familiar glint of gold.

"Lord Éomer," she said tentatively. The man leapt off the banister and walked up to her, coming fully into the moonbeam. Éomer smiled at her.

"Did I startle you?" he asked gently. Lothíriel gave a small laugh.

"A little, but I suppose the darkness contributed to my fear," she said. Éomer frowned at her.

"Princess, I do not think it is wise of you to wonder the palace alone at night," he said. Lothíriel shrugged.

"I know, but my lord I wasn't wondering around and I'm not alone, you are here. And surely I can entrust you with my honor can I not?" she said, fixing Éomer with a look. He laughed softly.

"Yes, you can. I will guard it with my life," he answered and bowed to her. Lothíriel smiled and leaned against the railing, facing him.

"So, king Éomer, why are you alone out here, or perhaps you are not?" she asked, her eyes widening in question.

"I am alone, princess. I just needed the cool air to calm my spirits. It is hot in there with the music and the crowd," he answered. Lothíriel nodded and her heart traitorously sighed in relief that he was alone and not with a lady.

"And you princess? Why have you left the hall? Do not tell me you have danced through all the men already?" he asked in return his tone bright, but his hands were clenched in fists at the picture of men doing what he so badly wanted to do. Dance with her.

"How could I have gone through all the men invited, my lord when you are out here?" she replied softly, unable to hide the disappointment that he had not asked her at all to dance.

"Yes, I can see how my absence would hinder that small feat," he replied turning away from her. Through the closed door, the music wafted out to them albeit it was quite faint. But it was still hearable, thought Éomer. Take the risk Éomer, remember tonight you are not king.

"Princess would you care to dance?" he asked, rushed that his words strung together. But Lothíriel heard each word said.

"Yes," she whispered and held her breath as she watched him draw closer to her, his eyes gazing deep into hers. She felt his hand wrap around her waist and felt him pull her closer to him until her body was pressed against his. His other hand took one of hers and he rested it on his chest, his hand covering it. And as if it had a mind of its own, Lothíriel saw her free hand move to rest on his shoulder, her fingers laced slightly with the loose strands of his gold hair. Not breaking eye contact, they began to sway to a new song. A song that only they could hear.

No amount of dreaming could ever prepare Éomer for the feel of her in his arms. How her body felt fitting into the contours of his body, like she had been designed to compliment him. He inhaled the sweet smell of her hair, of her skin as he bent down to place a soft kiss on the base of her neck. He heard her gasp and felt her body press against him even more. Pulling back only a little, he looked at her beautiful face bathed in the moonlight. Her eyes were closed but her lips were slightly parted and it took all the will power within him to stop himself from claiming her lips under his. Just then her eyelids fluttered opened to look at him.

"Éomer," she whispered his name.

"Oh Lothíriel, what are you doing to me?" he whispered in return and he couldn't hold back anymore. He bent down and pressed his lips onto hers. He only meant it to be a sweet kiss, but he had not expected her to respond in the way she did. She increased the pressure of her lips and brushed the tip of her tongue against his lips. His lips responded by parting and he gasped when he felt her tongue dive into his mouth seeking out his tongue. The two met in an ardor of passion, stroking, caressing each other. He gently nipped her bottom lip before returning to exploring her lips with his. When the two finally pulled away, it was mostly because of the need of air in their lungs.

Not completely releasing each other's hold, they looked at each other. Her lips were red and swollen from his kisses and he was sure his looked the same.

"Where did you learn to kiss like that?" he asked in amazement. Lothíriel blushed.

"It wasn't out of practice I can assure you. It's more of the fact that I have a ladies man for a brother and have found myself on numerous occasions stumbling onto scenes I should not. A girl learns from things like that," she replied ruefully. Éomer smiled and gently traced a finger down her cheek. Lothíriel closed her eyes at the wonderful feeling.

"Éomer, don't," she said suddenly and stepped away from him. He looked confused at first but then his expression turned to one of contrite.

"Princess, I am so..." he began but was stopped when she placed a finger on his lips.

"Don't apologize, please. I'm not sorry," she whispered. He took her finger and kissed it.

"Princess, if I were still the Third Marshal, I would ask your father for permission to marry you ere the sun set on the first day we met," he whispered his voice thick with emotions. She nodded.

"If you were still the Third Marshal, you would not be worthy of rank to marry me," she answered laughing a little. Éomer chuckled at her words.

"Aye that would be true, but it wouldn't stop me from trying," he responded and Lothíriel knew he meant every word.

"You understand why I can't…"

"Fall in love with me? Marry me?" Lothíriel finished. He nodded.

"Yes, I do. You are king now and the peoples need out weigh your own. I understand that your people would want a native of their city to be queen, not some stranger from a far land," she said.

"Thank you," was all Éomer could say as he pulled her for a tight hug. She responded with a hug of equal ferocity.

"We shall be friends," she said as they pulled away. He nodded and grinned which she returned with a huge smile.

"I would like that," he said. They grew silent for a while.

"Perhaps I should escort you back inside. Tongues will wag if we are seen out here without escort," he said. Lothíriel nodded, for she realized the truth of his words. She gave a silent thanks to Eru that none of her brothers or her father had noticed she was missing or they would come out looking for her. She did not think that even a great warrior like Éomer could withhold the wrath of four Dol Amroth men. Quickly the two headed back into the hall.

However, Lothíriel had been wrong about her brothers not noticing her absence, for one of them had indeed trailed her out and had stood leaning against the wall, cloaked in darkness that he could see the exchange of words and action between the two without them noticing his presence. And he was joined by the sister of the man who had been so liberal with his sister.

"So what are your thoughts?" she asked. He remained silent for a while longer.

"I will skewer him with my sword and feed him to the pigs, for the bold act he took on my sister," he growled. Éowyn laughed.

"You agree too then that they are a match?" she persisted. Amrothos sighed.

"Yes I agree. So what are your plans, Lady Éowyn," he asked turning to her, not seeing much just a shadow of her face. Right now the face was scrunched up in concentration.

"I do not know," she replied eventually. Amrothos looked away, the wheels in his head churning furiously. How could Éomer be convinced that Lothíriel was meant for him without the intrusion of outsiders. And it will have to be done away from Elphir's presence.

"She could go to Rohan. Aren't we all due to leave for your city tomorrow?" he asked. Éowyn nodded.

"Aye, day after. But the coronation will only take three days most, and then I am sure your father would want to return to Dol Amroth. There is no reason for Lothíriel to remain longer than the three days," she said. An idea had begun to take shape in Amrothos head.

"Unless, the White Lady of Rohan was about to marry a Gondor man and requires the teachings of a lady familiar to the custom of Gondor court, albeit that lady has probably never obeyed them in her life," he said, the last bit said wryly but his face brightening with each word. Éowyn stared at him open mouthed.

"Amrothos, you are a genius. After several weeks of seeing Lothíriel around the palace, and how much she belongs there with him, just the idea of her leaving would send him in a shake of a horse's tail to Dol Amroth for permission to marry her," said Éowyn. Amrothos beamed at her. Sometimes his intelligence surprised even himself. Oh, but there was one problem.

"But I must warn you, Elphir will be against the idea and I can assure you he is a force to be reckoned with," said Amrothos turning serious.

"And I can assure you, Prince Amrothos that I will meet his challenge formidably," she replied with equal gravity. This caused Amrothos to grin. He had no doubts about that.

"Well, stop looking smug and lets head on onside before anyone misses us," she said and the two entered the hall just as Éomer and Lothíriel had previously. And as Éowyn spied her brother who was engaged with Aragorn and Faramir, looking much happier, she couldn't help but grin. He won't know what hit him.

End of chapter 4

(7,777 words)


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Five

It was the next day and the Rohan entourage, Merry inclusive, was preparing to leave for their golden city. Inside the palace, Éomer and Éowyn and were enjoying their temporary last meal with their friends. As it would be, the two Rohirrim siblings would head on to Riddermark firstly and begin the appropriate preparations for the burial and then the welcoming of their friends. Imrahil had voiced his desire to return to Dol Amroth beforehand as he wanted to see how his city fared and Aragorn also wanted to settle some internal affairs with his steward before heading off to Rohan. So it had been agreed that the Gondor and Dol Amroth team would begin their trip to Rohan middle that week.

"And three weeks later, we shall welcome you and your men to our city once again, only this time dear Lady Éowyn will not be following you back," said Aragorn as the small group sat at the breakfast table. Éowyn blushed a little and looked down at her hands. Éomer grinned and placed an arm around his sister.

"I will miss her, but I do not think I will mind the peace and quiet that will come with her absence," he said and then laughed when Éowyn gave him a narrow look.

"That is what you think, brother, but I still have three weeks before my wedding and I will dedicate that time to finding you a wife, who I will guarantee be anything but quiet," she retorted back. Éomer just gave her a withering look in return.

"Lady Éowyn, I must commend you on your courage. I could never even begin to imagine living anywhere but by the sea," said Amrothos from the end of the table. Éowyn grew quiet for a while.

"I can not truthfully say I will not miss Rohan, your highness, but sometimes the sacrifice is worth the pain, especially when at the end of the tunnel, there a light waiting," she said and gave Faramir a shy smile. Faramir, who was seated opposite her smiled back his eyes radiating with what his lips did not say. But Éowyn was not finished. Turning back to Amrothos, she recited the words that the two of them had secretly scripted early that morning.

"However, my greatest fear right now is that I will appear a fool before the ladies of Gondor court and even worse the people of Ithilien due to my lack of knowledge concerning Gondor etiquette," she said. Éomer gave a snort.

"You have no regards of the Rohan etiquette, and it has never bothered you before," he said. Éowyn rolled her eyes.

"Aye, but that was when I was not engaged to be wed. Now it is my duty to uphold the good name of my husband, and I am afraid that I will bring shame to him instead," she said. Faramir leaned forward; his hand outstretched upwards in which she automatically placed hers in.

"You could never bring shame to me, my love, only unbridled amount of happiness," he said softly before planting a kiss at the back of her palm. Next to him, Lothíriel sighed.

"That is so romantic," she said, but then lowered her head when she saw Elphir frown at her. Éowyn pulled away, and smiled at the Faramir.

"Thank you my lord, but I still wish there was someone I knew who could help instruct me on the proper ways, for I can not think of anyone in Rohan," she said dejectedly. There was silence and Éowyn and Amrothos held their breaths in anticipation. Their relief came in the form of Imrahil's second son.

"Riel is of royal blood, and she and Lady Éowyn have become good friends. Perhaps she could stay with you and teach you the ropes, my lady. What do you say father?" said Erchirion with a simple naivety, for he was not enlightened on the wily scheme of his youngest brother and soon to be cousin by marriage. Éowyn turned and looked expectantly at Imrahil. Imrahil who was caught of guard by his son's words just stared at her, mouth open a little.

"That sounds like a plausible solution, Imrahil. Lothíriel would be a great help to Éowyn," said Aragorn. All eyes were fixed onto the Prince. After a minute of opening and closing his mouth, he turned to his daughter, seated next to him.

"Swan, what you say?" he asked. Lothíriel bit her bottom lip. Stay in Rohan for three weeks? Under the same roof as Éomer? She didn't think seeing him every day for the next three weeks would do much to help her get over her little infatuation for the Rohan King. But one look at Éowyn's pleading face, her inhibitions crumbled and she nodded.

"I do not mind. It is a great opportunity to see more of Middle earth and any assistance I could be to Lady Éowyn would be wonderful," she replied with a smile, although her insides were anything but calm.

"Then I shall have to agree as well," said Imrahil, discreetly holding up a finger, stopping Elphir from saying anything. And he knew Elphir's was about to object to the idea. He will deal with his eldest son later.

"It is settled, Lothíriel shall remain in Rohan with Éowyn until they return to Gondor for hers and Faramir's wedding," said Aragorn. But then Arwen spoke up.

"Should we not ask at first what the King of Rohan has to say?" she said softly. Éomer, who had maintained a placid face throughout the whole thing, although his insides did not match, just shrugged his shoulder before smiling at the princess.

"It will be an honor for us to host Princess Lothíriel. Her beauty will indeed brighten up the hills of the Mark," he said and Lothíriel turned a little pink at his words.

"Thank you, your majesty," she responded and returned his smile. The topic then deviated off to other matters and from the other end of the table; Amrothos gave Éowyn a victorious wink.

* * *

An hour later, Éomer, Éowyn, Merry and the Rohirrim soldiers were beginning to mount their steeds. However, just before he mounted, Lothíriel had somehow managed to corner Éomer to herself at the base of the palace steps without anybody paying close attention to them.

"Your majesty, I wish to thank you again for allowing me to stay in Rohan," she said softly. Éomer bent a little lower to her.

"Really, Lothíriel, all this formal title is really insulting. I thought we had agreed to be friends," he whispered, his brow in a frown but his eyes twinkling with mirth. Lothíriel responded with a grin.

"Very well then, Éomer it is. No more insulting titles," she said.

"That's much better. To be truthful, Lothíriel, I should be thanking you. I feel my advisers and myself would be at a lost at choosing what trimmings would suit Éowyn best," he said wryly. Lothíriel laughed delicately at the image of Éomer surrounded in lace and trimmings.

"Yes, I can see how that would be more taxing than fending of swarms of orcs," she answered. Éomer nodded.

"Aye, I agree as well. But I must warn you, princess; Rohan is very different form Dol Amroth and the White city for that matter. It is green grass as far as the eye can see," he warned her. Lothíriel bit her lip. Yes, the thought had crossed her mind. Three weeks away from her beloved sea.

"But lady Éowyn needs me, and if that means being away from my city then I shall endure it with a brave front," she said with determination. Éomer looked at her for a while.

"I do not doubt it. You have a strong spirit, princess," he said softly with frank admiration as he stared deep into her eyes until she broke the spell by lowering her lashes. Éomer straightened and cleared his throat.

"Well, I suppose I should join my men, as there will be some who are most anxious to leave for home," he said. She nodded.

"Of course, who wouldn't be eager to return to the arms of a loved one?" she replied.

"One day, my lord you too will share their feelings," she continued with a sly smile and Éomer grimaced.

"Lothíriel, please, I will receive more than enough hints from my sister and my advisers. I would hope that you would be on my side for this matter," he said. She laughed at his words and shook her head.

"I am sorry, my lord but you are on your own, for I will undoubtedly assist lady Éowyn in finding you a wife," she said and her laughter grew louder as he growled in response. Lothíriel was a little surprised herself at how easy it came to tease Éomer about finding a wife. Maybe spending three weeks in Rohan wouldn't be as hard as she had thought. All of a sudden she was looking forward to seeing his home.

"I am already beginning to regret extending my invitation to you. There wouldn't be any chance of taking it back would there?" he asked warily at Lothíriel's smiling face.

"Nay, none what so ever," she replied. Raising his hands in defeat, Éomer sighed.

"Then it would seem my work is cut out for me," he said in mock despair. Lothíriel gave him a soft smack on the arm.

"Really Éomer, there are fates worse than being married, you know," she said sternly. Éomer looked at her with a raised eyebrow.

"This coming from someone who is not married or even betrothed, and does not appear to be interested in either?" he asked. Lothíriel gave him a defensive look.

"Just because I have yet to find someone suitable now, does not mean I will not eventually find him. Unlike you, my lord, I do not run away from the prospect of marriage," she answered back.

"But how will you know you've found him?" he asked. Lothíriel went silent for a while.

"I just will I suppose, I'm not really sure," she replied. Éomer looked at her triumphantly.

"You have just contradicted yourself, princess. How can you marry the right man, if you do not know if he is the right man? Just as how can I marry if I do not know if she is the right woman," he replied. Lothíriel was not to be beaten in their friendly argument.

"Ah, but my lord, I am not king to a nation now am I? Whether I marry or not is of no consequences to anyone," she replied back. Éomer just looked at her, no longer smiling but serious.

"I would like to know who was the lucky man to marry the most beautiful maiden in middle earth, especially when I would wish it were me," he said quietly. Lothíriel looked at him her eyes wide like saucers then dropped her gaze, her cheeks tinged with pink.

"Éomer, you shouldn't say such things," she said and the old feelings came back to her. Unknowingly, she placed a hand to her fluttering heart. However, Éomer was unable to respond as at that moment, Imrahil walked up to them.

"Daughter, you will see King Éomer again in a week's time. There is no need to delay his journey," said Imrahil as he came to stand between them. He wondered what had transpired between the two to give Lothíriel blushing cheeks and form regrets in Éomer's eyes.

"I was just thanking Éomer for his invitation to Rohan," she replied.

"And I was thanking Lothíriel for releasing me of the duties of picking trimmings for Éowyn's dress," he replied and the two exchanged a smile. Imrahil cocked an eyebrow.

"So we are on a first name basis now are we?" he asked amusedly and Lothíriel bit her lip as she looked at her father. She couldn't tell from his blank face whether he was angry or not. Éomer fidgeted a little before saying.

"That would be my doing Imrahil, for I have asked your daughter to be friends with me, of course with your approval," he added the last bit quickly. Imrahil shrugged.

"I do not mind of your friendship nor do I mind both of you talking but at this moment, I do not think I can say the same about your men or your horse for that matter," he replied. Éomer turned away from the two to look at the group congregating at the base of the steps. Horses were stamping impatiently and his men beside their steeds waiting for their leader, most of them with looks as impatient as their horses. As for Éomer's own steed, it was blowing wisp of air through his nostrils, and although it was too well trained and disciplined to do anything as undignified as stamping its foot, it still managed to convey its annoyance to its owner with several flicks of its great head.

"I see what you mean," replied Éomer and he turned to Lothíriel, but the princess, who had followed his turn of head earlier, was staring dumbfounded at Éomer's horse.

"Éomer that is the biggest horse I have ever seen. Why it must be one of the maeras," she breathed her eyes wide. Éomer's chest puffed out in pride.

"Aye, that is what he is, Firefoot is his name and sired by Shadowfax himself. He was given to me by my uncle when I first became Third Marshal," he answered. Imrahil rolled his eyes at the two. He truly believed his daughter was a fine match to Éomer when it came to being horse crazy.

"May I touch it?" she asked. Immediately Imrahil perked up.

"Riel, I don't think that would be wise. It is a battle horse and may not be to willing to be touched by strange hands," he said. Éomer nodded in agreement. Firefoot has never let any man touch him, not even the stable boy in Rohan. But Lothíriel just scoffed at their words and picked up her skirts. Before any of the men could stop her, she had descended the steps and was standing by the great beast. She looked up at it and it looked down at her. Its size was magnificent and it could easily trample her with just one hoof. Or it could bite large parts of her with those huge teeth of it. But it did neither as it stood still and Lothíriel knew that Firefoot wouldn't hurt her.

"You're just a softie aren't you," she whispered and tentatively raised a hand to its nose. So intent was she on the horse that she did not realize that all around her had stopped to focus on her and the horse. Even Éomer and Imrahil stood still, not wanting to cause any sudden movement that would be considered threatening to the giant horse. Slowly, Lothíriel lowered her hand onto the horse's nose and when it did not react, she continued to stroke its nose and move towards its strong neck.

"So beautiful," she whispered to the still horse and as if it understood her, it turned its head slightly and began nuzzling her. Lothíriel let out a laugh before stepping away from the horse, scooping its wet nose in both her palms.

"Princess, I believe there is more to you than your sweet smile and innocent eyes," said Éomer as he approached them. When he neared, Firefoot removed himself from Lothíriel's hands and rested on Éomer's shoulder. He patted Firefoot's head but didn't take his eyes off Lothíriel. Then as if Éomer's words had broken a spell, the silence around them erupted into murmurs of astonishment from mostly Éomer's men and a few around them.

"Lothíriel, do you realize it could have easily killed you!" said Erchirion as he ran up to them. Lothíriel rolled her eyes.

"But it didn't so that says much doesn't it?" she said to her brother. Erchirion just shook his head and his gaze washed over the big horse. Why the top of the animal's back was nearly his height and it must weigh an entire vessel if not two. Elphir came next.

"Have you gone insane! What devilry possessed you to go up to the ugly brute!" cried Elphir. In protest of being called a brute and ugly, Firefoot stamped his hooves and Éomer's brow furrowed in anger. Lothíriel eyes narrowed at him.

"Eli, it isn't a brute, nor is it ugly!" she exclaimed at him. Éomer walked to Elphir, his eyes glinting.

"Do not ever use such disrespecting words about my horse, if it had wanted to harm your sister it would have done so before she even came within touching distance," he snapped at the Dol Amroth prince. Elphir fixed him with a hostile look and it was only Éomer's crown that prevented him from sinking his fist into the golden haired man. As it was, Imrahil stepped between the two.

"Come, Éomer. The sun has begun to grow hot, perhaps you should begin before it becomes even more unbearable," said the older man. Éomer glared at Elphir a little longer before turning to Imrahil. His angry face calmed down slightly and he nodded in agreement.

"Yes, the more ground covered before the mid day sun rises would do well for the horse. Eorlings, we ride!" he cried out and mounted his horse. His men followed and mounted their steed. Clicking his heel slightly, he steered Firefoot to where Aragorn and Arwen were standing, with Éowyn and Merry already mounted. All four had a nervous look as the Rohan King, whose eyes were still stormy rode up to them.

"Aragorn, we shall see you in a week's time," he said, his attempt of sounding light ruined by the brusqueness of his words. Aragorn nodded.

"Yes, friend, and I shall be sure to bring along with me the festivity to the golden city," he said with a smile. Éomer returned his smile. He turned to the queen.

"Thank you for the lovely welcome and it will be an honor to repay your hospitality within the walls of Meduseld," he said to Arwen, and her serene face calmed his insides a little more. She graced him with a beautiful smile.

"The honor, my lord, will be entirely ours," she replied. Éomer nodded and turned to the remaining fellowship.

"Till we meet again, my friends," he said to them and they returned with a smile and wave each. He then guided his horse to where Imrahil stood.

"We shall toast our victory once more in Riddermark, friend," he said and leaned down to shake hands with Imrahil. With only a fleeting glance towards Erchirion and Amrothos, ignoring Elphir, he nodded at them. Then he turned to Lothíriel. She sighed with relief for she thought after her brother's horrible words he would not want to talk to her again.

"Éomer…" she began with a smile, but he cut off her words, no smile gracing his lips.

"Rohan is known for its rocky terrain. It is best if you pack some sturdy clothes and shoes, princess," he said. At first she was shocked at his impersonal tone, but quickly caught herself. Bringing herself to her fullest height, she gave him her most regal nod.

"Thank you your majesty, I will remember your advice," she returned just as impersonal, doing well to hide the sting in her heart. He nodded and was off with Éowyn and Merry by his side and his men behind him, the banner of Riddermark flying high amongst them, the thundering hooves of the mighty steeds leaving behind great clouds of dirt. Once they had exited the seven walls, the small congregation of friends and family began to disperse back to the palace. Lothíriel turned to her brother, fully intending to give him a tongue lashing. But he spoke first.

"You would choose to defend a stranger over your brother," he said, his tone flat and quiet before he too turned towards the palace. Amrothos came up to his stunned sister and put an arm around her. Erchirion came to stand on her other side.

"He is scared, Riel, do not take his words to heart," said Amrothos. Lothíriel looked up at him.

"Of what?" she asked.

"That there's actually someone out there worthy of marrying you," said Erchirion. Both Amrothos and Lothíriel turned to look at him.

"Chirion, not you as well. It is obvious that the war has done much damaged to all three of your brains, and I will not listen to your nonsense. Good day," she said irritatedly and walked away from them.

"Did you think I was ignorant to your little scheme?" he asked. Amrothos lifted his shoulder and gave his brother a grin.

"Well, I surely did not think you would notice, as it seems that matters that do not concern a willing wench and a bed do not concern you either," he said ruefully. Erchirion laughed.

"Yes, I have been a little overboard with the ladies here haven't I? I was simply enjoying the pleasures of being alive. But seriously, I think king Éomer will be a good match for our little sister, and if you require any assistance in "convincing" our dear eldest brother, do not hesitate. I will use all means from my sword to my fist to convince him," he said and Amrothos laughed. He placed a hand on his brother's shoulder and the two began walking back to the palace.

"That is a comfort to know, for I do not look forward to battling our brother alone," he answered. But firstly, he'll have to convince Lothíriel and Éomer that they are right for each other, a task, no doubt, as difficult as convincing his eldest brother.

End of Chapter 5

(3,634 words)


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter Six

The trip home was different from when they had made their way to the White City. Where that had been full of singing and fiery determination of going into battle, this was mellow and quiet. It seemed the sullen mood of their king and leader was affecting his men's moods as well. So far no one had dared to approach him and even Merry, who was family to the king, remained slightly behind, occasionally exchanging news with one of the soldiers. Éowyn had tried to talk to her brother but his disgruntled monosyllabic replies did much to deter further conversation and she left him to ride alone in front of their group. Eventually she grew tired of his childishness and spurred her horse forward to canter by his side.

"Éomer, this is going too far. Your sulking is putting a damper on your men's joy of returning home," she said, her eyes narrowed to annoyed slits focused on him. He didn't turn to look at her, but continued staring at a point in front of him.

"Éomer, this isn't fair. I demand you snap out of your self pitying mood, it is your own fault that she was so cold to you. _You_ should not have talked to her like that," said Éowyn, her tone becoming angrier. Éomer let out a growl and turned to her.

"I do not tell them to how to feel. It is their own problem if they wish to be miserable," he snapped back at her. Éowyn's right hand went immediately for the hilt of her sword tucked neatly against her saddle. Breathing deeply she wiled herself to not resort to violence. She must learn to resolve arguments with diplomacy and not aggression.

"And, furthermore, I do _not_ **care** how Lady Lothíriel speaks to me, it affects me naught," he continued slightly haughty. This time Éowyn snorted loudly. Éomer turned sharply to her before turning back to look to the road in front of him.

"You can not make me believe that for was I not the one to tell you to shut up about how Lothíriel and you are now friends?" she replied not taking her eyes of him. Éomer was impassive for a while, his expression hard and angry before suddenly dropping his head to the back of Firefoot's neck, burying his face in its mane. Éowyn was slightly surprised at his show of woe, especially within such close proximity with his men, but the smiled at his bent head. _He is affected more that he will even know,_ she thought fondly.

"Éowyn, what have I done? I was so angry at her brother and I took it out on her," his voice was slightly muffled by the horse's mane but Éowyn heard him well enough to place a consoling hand on his bent shoulders.

"We are not that far from the white city and I believe Imrahil has not left the city as yet," she said gently. He lifted his head, his once before dull eyes bright once again with hope. Éowyn felt a pang of sadness in her heart for the boy who had once turned to her for comforting words was now a man who would instead find comfort in his wife's arms.

"Yes, I will simply return to the White City and ask for her forgiveness," he said. But his elation dropped when he saw his sister pull a face.

"What? You don't think she will forgive me?" he asked, his brow furrowed with worry.

"It isn't that, brother but… well, look behind you," she said finally. He obliged her by turning and immediately saw her point. Behind him were men that were so tired the only thing giving them strength to remain on their horses was the thought of their loved ones awaiting their return. To turn back now for a personal matter would be cruel of him and any ideas of going by himself would definitely be opposed by his men and some would definitely insist on following him. He sighed in defeat.

"Well then, that's it," he said dejectedly. Éowyn rolled her eyes at him.

"Éomer where is your fighting spirit? Is this the great warrior that fought the War of the Rings? Where is the warrior that will go down in the history books of Rohan, whose story will be told before fireplaces in many homes long after he is placed to rest in his royal mound?" she said and Éomer couldn't help grin at her words.

"Yes, I am great aren't I?" he teased and laughed when Éowyn reached over and playfully pinched him. Now that his good mood had been restored, and he was no longer angry, he was able to think clearly again. He was also able to see that Éowyn was right. He was being unfair, and that he shouldn't have channeled his anger to the arrogant Elphir on Lothíriel instead. And since she would reside in his home during the next three weeks it would do well for him to make peace with the princess.

Well, he supposed he would have to ask, no, beseech for Lothíriel's forgiveness when the Dol Amroth group arrives at the end of this week. But then a thought entered his head. He was suddenly reminded of how unreasonable Éowyn could be if she was left to fester with her anger and since that was not the way of a warrior, Éomer concluded it must the way of a woman and no doubt Lothíriel would be the same. That would not do well at all. Especially as the newly crowned king and he will be able to dance with any maiden he chooses. Yes, he'll have to make his peace with the princess before she could begin to build a grudge against him. Once they reach Meduseld, he will send out a messenger to Dol Amroth with a letter to the princess.

Éowyn was silent as she watched the expressions pass through her brother's face. She knew his warrior mind would be thinking up strategies and how he will execute his plan. She smiled as her brother's facial expressions finally settled on a satisfied look and he turned to her.

"I suppose you would like to know what I plan," he asked dryly. Willing herself to remain impassive, Éowyn shrugged her shoulder.

"If you wish, I do not mind hearing," she said nonchalantly. Éomer gave her a grin, because he knew she was dying to know.

"Well, considering that she is unpredictable ground, to prolong the mission would be fatal as the consequences of letting her fester in her anger are unknown. The only path I see is a direct one that unfortunately can not be executed until we are within the walls of Meduseld. Once there, I will dispatch a small group immediately to Dol Amroth and…" his words were cut off by his sister's sudden hysterical laughter. All eyes were fixed onto the White Lady as she bent low on her saddle, clutching her sides hard, tears streaming down her face as her pearls of laughter washed over them. Before long, the tired men were also smiling and some chuckling as they watched her. Only Éomer wasn't laughing. He wasn't sure to be annoyed or confused. After a few moments Éowyn managed to pull herself together and was able to stop laughing long enough to wipe her tears and breathe in deeply. Once all traces of laughter had gone she turned to her brother, who had in the end, chosen to be annoyed. That caused her to laugh again.

"Éomer, I am sorry. I do not mean to make light of your plans, but… honestly… _Mission__? Unpredictable ground? Dispatch a small group?_ Of what… scouts? Shall we attack Dol Amroth at day break? Will we use the surprise tactic or lay siege till she forgives you willingly or surrenders in hunger? Or perhaps shall we instead kidnap her and threaten her into forgiving you?" cried Éowyn her arms flying out in front of her. Éomer slunk deeper into his saddle, his frown becoming more intense. Éowyn sighed between her chuckles, she knew she shouldn't have baited her brother so, as his foul temper was never something pleasant to deal with, but she couldn't resist.

"Éomer, I'm sorry, I really am… I shouldn't have teased you so, but honestly, why don't you just send Elleon back to Gondor with a written apology? She is a girl that was caught in the middle of two headstrong men. She is not an enemy territory to be conquered," she said gently, and slowly Éomer's frown began to clear up.

"I agree with lady Éowyn. A heartfelt apology from your majesty will definitely cool her fiery mind, and perhaps a flower to touch her maiden heart. There are many growing alongside our paths," said Merry who had joined them upon hearing Éowyn's words. He should have known it was the lovely princess who had managed to make his confident friend into an uncertain man.

"Yes, I suppose that will work well than what I had originally planned…" he said slowly.

"Eorlings, we stop and rest the horses for a short spell," he suddenly cried out as he brought his horse to a sudden stop. Before long, there were small groups of men lounging around, some grooming their horses, a few others having a mug of ale each and a third party had gone and taken a few of the horses to a nearby watering hole. Their leader however was neither of these people. Instead, he was huddled away from his men, sitting under the shade of a tree accompanied by his sister and Merry. Around his crossed legs were several pieces of crumpled paper. After several seconds of biting the tip of his quill, Éomer threw down the parchment and quill in a huff.

"Éowyn, why can't you write the letter? It makes no difference whether you or I write," he grumbled. Éowyn sighed for the tenth time and Merry turned away to hide his growing smile. She picked up the paper and quill and placed it back on his lap.

"Éomer, you must write this and I assure you she will know who wrote it," said Éowyn. Reluctantly, Éomer obliged and prepared to compose what would be his fourteenth draft.

"How can she possibly know who wrote it, unless she has eyes everywhere," grumbled Éomer after several minutes of staring blankly at the paper.

"She does not need to have eyes everywhere, she will know if I wrote it because I, dear brother, can spell," said Éowyn with a such straight face that it took a couple of seconds for Éomer to realize his sister was teasing him. He scowled deeper at her, and Merry couldn't contain it anymore. He burst into laughter.

"Friend, look at you. Never have I seen you, since we first met at Edoras, at a lost for words. The princess has left quite a mark on you hasn't she?" laughed Merry. Éowyn joined his laughter and Éomer blushed a slight pink.

"I simply want to make amends, Master Merriadoc. We are friends. If you had a small argument with Pippin, Frodo or Sam, would you also not want to make amends? It isn't my fault if I am not as great with words as I am with a sword," he stated, trying hard to cover his embarrassment at Merry's words, especially since it was hovering too closely to the truth.

"But your words did fine in upsetting her," said Éowyn dryly. Éomer just ignored her.

"Of course, your majesty, but it has never left me as flustered as you are now," he replied, his laugh subsiding to a huge grin. Éomer sighed. He couldn't understand why it was so difficult. There was once when he was caught in the middle of a five orc circle and that experience did not seem even half as difficult or mind wrecking as writing a letter to Lothíriel. They were friends and surely she will not hold his hot temper against him. And yet, he wanted the letter to be more than an apology letter. Maybe that was the problem.

"Éomer, write what is in your heart," came Éowyn's soft voice, entering his head. But it didn't help much because it was his inability to understand what was in his heart that was giving him difficulty. So he closed his eyes momentarily and pictured her face in his mind. He pictured her the first time they had met, her hair wild from the wind and her cheeks wet with tears of joy, then grief. How hard she had blushed when he teased her. He saw her standing at the abandoned watchtower, strong and powerful as she made her peace with fate and its cruel twists. Then he saw her looking so beautiful and graceful at Aragorn's wedding. She was everything a princess should look like and he remembered thinking that she was lovelier than Arwen herself. And when they kissed… he could still feel her against his lips. And she had bonded with his horse, which was definitely a high point for her. She was so much like Éowyn yet so much different. Where Éowyn displayed her strength in her ability to wield a sword, Lothíriel showed her strength through her gentle but firm actions, her understanding, her patience, her compassion and most of all her love for her family. Even that spoilt Prince Elphir. Opening his eyes, he knew what to write. Several minutes passed as Éomer concentrated hard on his words, letting Éowyn's and Merry's quiet chatter wash over him.

"It's done!" he cried out with satisfaction and the expression he wore was similar to the one he wore when he knew he had emerged victorious in a battle.

"Wonderful, brother. Seal it and then Elleon can ride to the White City and deliver it to your princess," said Éowyn. Éomer nodded and he was so pleased with himself he did not even correct Éowyn's words about "his princess". He got up and held out a hand to assist his sister before taking long strides back to where his men were congregated.

"Hamod, where is Elleon?" he asked one of his soldiers.

"I am here, your majesty and my horse is ready and saddled, my lord," came a voice behind him. Éomer turned to face a tall, gangly boy, no older than eighteen. As the boy had said, he was indeed ready to ride back to the white city. Éomer passed him the letter after sealing it with the green wax of Rohan bearing a head of a horse. But just before Elleon mounted his steed, Éomer remembered something.

"Boy, wait!" he said suddenly and Elleon paused, one leg already in a stirrup. Without a word Éomer walked away from the small group to the edge of the forest where there were several small patches of flowers growing. He looked at them, his brow furrowed in intense concentration.

"If I may, my lord, the pale lilac wildflowers will match her fair complexion and complement her blue eyes," a voice spoke up from his side. He turned and saw Helfast, his captain standing next to him.

"Yes, I see what you mean. How many do you think I should pick?" asked the young king, as besides being his captain, Helfast was first and foremost his friend, a bond that the two had form on the many battle fields and not to mention behind a many pints of ales. Helfast thought for a while.

"Pick enough to bring a smile to her lips but leave behind enough for another besotted young man who may come along to do the same for his lady love," replied Helfast, a small grin on his face.

"I am not a besotted man," Éomer protested, but Helfast placed a hand on his friend's shoulder and gave the king an encouraging smile before moving away to leave the king with the flowers and his words. But Éomer did not ponder long as he reached down a plucked seven lilac colored flowers. He walked back to the waiting messenger boy. Éowyn and Merry were standing nearby.

"Elleon, give these and the letter to Princess Lothíriel. Tell her that four are for the days we had already spent together, and the remaining three, represents the following weeks she will grace my home with her presence and beauty," he said softly and he fondly stroked the petals before handing it over to his messenger. Elleon took the flowers, his face grave, the twitching at the corner of his lips wonderfully hidden. But even he couldn't hold back when from the background Éowyn spoke out.

"Éomer, you did not tell me you are a man of poetry? Was it something you picked up from your orc raids?" said Éowyn dryly. Several faces broke into hidden grins while Elleon burst into laughter. Éomer glared at his sister then turned to Elleon.

"You dare to laugh at your king?" he said, his tone low with unspoken threat that he did not intend to carry out. Immediately Elleon stopped laughing and after a few stumbling apologies he practically jumped onto his horse and rode away as if Morgoth himself were chasing him. Once Éomer was satisfied that Elleon was heading in the right direction, he turned to his sister.

"Dear sister, I believe the same orc that taught me poetry taught _you,_ how to be a lady," he retorted back. But Éowyn was in too much of a good mood to say anything. Her brother's growing feelings for the Dol Amroth princess was written all over his face. He will be declaring his love to the princess before the sun set on the first week she was there, and Éowyn's job would be satisfactorily done. Amrothos would be pleased to hear it as well. Éomer raised the orders that they would continue their journey home; Éowyn walked up to her own mare and mounted as did all the others. And as the Eored continued their journey home, their moods uplifted by the rest and food, somewhere at the back, a soldier, a young man who had tasted his first victory in battle, turned to an older, more weather worn soldier.

"Why does it matter so much to Éomer King that the princess forgives him?" he asked. Without turning to the boy, the man answered.

"It would matter if Éomer King expects her to be his queen."

* * *

"Amer, how long more till we are home?" Lothíriel whispered to her brother who was riding beside her. Amrothos turned to look at her, an eyebrow cocked up.

"Since the last time you asked me? Still a day and a half. Riel, we have only been traveling for no more than ten leagues from the White City. I can still see the high walls of Gondor," he answered. Lothíriel sighed and gently stroked Hermes's neck. It wasn't that she didn't like riding. In fact riding was the only thing that rivaled her love for the sea, it was simply that today had been a long and emotional tiring day, and she simply wished to retire to her chamber and listen to the sound of the sea. All that and the noon sun had not yet even graced the sky. Besides, she missed Éomer. She wished the whole thing had not happened and they had parted as friends still. But what had passed can not be changed. She just hoped he would at least be civil to her during her time there. Well, if he wasn't at least there is Lady Éowyn and her wedding plans to distract her.

_Hmmm, Edoras has been said to be leagues and leagues of green grass. And if it is all green, where do they get their water supply? Oh dear I do hope I will be able to have a bath at least once a week, _shethought idly as her mind began to drift to the three weeks she would be spending in Edoras. As she thought the words, she had begun to feel a little lonely.

Elphir had yet to talk to her, he just frowned angrily at the front of the group, her father and Erchirion were locked in some friendly argument that ended very often in laughter only to have the arguing pick up speed soon after that. She was tempted to join them, but from Erchirion's face she didn't think her father would allow her to hear what her brother had to say. To protect her delicate ears, it would seem. As for Amrothos, he would talk with her occasionally, but being the silent one among the four sibling, he preferred to stare into nothing and, as he had told Lothíriel many times, to reflect on the days events. So there she was the only female and bored stiff. She couldn't even spur Hermés into a decent gallop as no doubt her father would rear her back and tie his reins with hers, as he used to do when she was small and would not ride quietly next to him. She shifted slightly in her sidesaddle and the ruffles of her skirts caught Imrahil's attention.

"Swan are you well? Do you wish to rest?" he asked, his tone concerned. Lothíriel rolled her eyes at him. Seriously, will her father never stop treating her like a child?

"Father, must I remind you that it was I who rode two days none stop from Dol Amroth to the White City?" she replied back. He grinned at her and nodded.

"Of course I have not forgotten. If you are sure you do not wish to stop…" he tried again but Lothíriel firmly shook her head.

"I am fine," she answered. Imrahil nodded, gave her one more look then turned back to Erchirion.

"If you are bored, you could try to speak with Elphir," said Amrothos. She cringed at the thought of her brother's angry words.

"Father said I should let him cool a little, and he wishes to speak to Elphir first," said Lothíriel. Amrothos nodded. He hoped that his father would be able to knock some sense into Elphir. Ah well, that will be determined when they reached Dol Amroth.

Lothíriel sensed that Amrothos had returned to his pensive mood and was no longer interested in talking. So left to her own devices, she turned her head around and about, taking in the green and plush scenery that were lined of her left and right and wondering why she hadn't noticed how many funny looking trees there were in Middle Earth on her way to the White City.

* * *

Elleon reached the main gates of Gondor and hailed the guards at the watch towers above him.

"What message do you bring, herald of Rohan?" called back one of the guard.

"I have a letter to deliver to Princess Lothíriel, from my king, King Éomer of the Mark. Allow me to pass," was Elleon's reply.

"You are free to enter our gates but you are too late, herald of Rohan. Prince Imrahil and his family and men have left," the second guard replied. Elleon was shocked. They had left already? Prince Imrahil is obviously not a man to dally.

"How long and how far do you think they have traveled?" he asked. The guards exchanged a few words among themselves and someone else from behind the stone gates. The first guard turned back to Elleon.

"They can not be far. Perhaps ten leagues, or slightly more if not less," he answered. Elleon nodded in relief. They were not far and he could easily catch up with them.

"Will you tell me the direction they headed towards, so I may try and seek them out?" he called out again.

"Aye, follow the path of the noon sun," was the reply. Elleon waved his thank you and set of once again into a gallop, the seven flowers, safely tucked under his cloak.

* * *

Lothíriel lifted a palm to hide her face from the hot sun. The sun had been climbing steadily through the sky as the group journeyed to their city by the sea.

"Are you hot, sister?" Amrothos said from her side. She turned to him and nodded, slightly perturbed that she was the only one to feel the sun's heat. Looking around her, none of the other men was shielding their faces.

"Yes, I feel as if I could cook our lunch on my cheeks. I never remembered it being this hot before," she grumbled softly. Amrothos laughed at her words.

"Well, the sea breeze does have a cooling effect on our city. Here, wear this," he said and slid his helmet over her head. The sudden heaviness of the armor nearly caused her to fall of her horse.

"Amer, get it off me! Your helmet is heavy, and not to mention it reeks of sweat!" she cried, reaching up to pull it off her head. Her attempts were in vain as it refused to budge. Amrothos laughed harder, and her other family member's turned at the commotion.

"Amer, take it off your sister's head," Lothíriel could hear her father's voice, trying to sound stern but she didn't miss the laughter behind it. In one move, Amrothos slipped his helmet of her head. Immediately, Lothíriel began to fiddle with her hair, knowing that the hard work of her Lissesül had been destroyed. She shot her brother an angry look.

"It was not funny, brother and you have ruined my hair!" she snapped at him.

"You said you were hot and I was only trying to help," he replied, his eyes wide with mock innocence.

"That is a lie, you… filthy orc!" she replied. Amrothos innocent look turned to a pained one.

"Riel, you hurt me with your words," he cried. Lothíriel glared at him harder but then couldn't help laughing.

"Well, do me a favor then brother, next time I ask for help, do not offer me your assistance," she said and then spurred her horse up to her father and Erchirion.

"We shall rest soon, have lunch, and if all is well, we should be home by the third setting of the sun," said her father as she appeared by him. Lothíriel beamed.

"It will be wonderful to be home again. I truly miss the sea," she said, and sighed happily of the thought of running across the beach, feeling the soft sand under her feet.

"That will be a feeling you shall have to get used to, won't it, sister, as you will be spending the next three weeks in Rohan," Erchirion said from the other side of Imrahil. Amrothos had followed his sister and was now riding next to Erchirion. Lothíriel's face dropped at that.

"Yes, I suppose I shall have to, won't I?" she said sadly. Imrahil turned to look at her.

"Are you having second thought, my child? If you do not want to, I am sure Lady Éowyn will understand," said Imrahil. Lothíriel bit her lower lip and pondered the idea of pulling out. As much as she didn't want to disappoint Éowyn, she couldn't bear to spend such a long period of time in a place where the reigning monarch was angry at her. She had truly enjoyed Éomer's company in the White City and she wanted to cherish the brief yet sweet memories and not have it tinted by his aloofness upon her arrival. She opened her mouth to answer, but was unable to answer, as suddenly a soldier rode up beside her.

"My Lord, there is a rider bearing a message from King Éomer," Talahin said, addressing Prince Imrahil. Imrahil gave the soldier a startled look and turned. There riding just a few men behind him was a young boy in a green tunic with the symbol of a white horse on his breast. The emblem of Riddermark.

"Send him forward," he said and brought his horse to a stop. Talahin nodded his head to one of the men and Elleon was allowed to approach the Prince. He rode up in front of them and bowed his head to the royal family, who had surrounded him.

"Your Highness, Prince Imrahil, I am Elleon, messenger of Éomer King and he has asked me, with your permission, to give this letter to your daughter, the Princess Lothíriel," he said respectfully. Imrahil's eyebrows rose higher and looked at his daughter. Her three brothers also turned to look at her and at the end of the line, Elphir's frown deepened.

"Lothíriel, do you wish to accept it?" he asked her. Lothíriel looked a little dubious for honestly what else could the king possibly have to say to her? In the end she nodded, and Elleon beamed at her. For a minute, he had thought she was going to reject it, and he did not look forward to returning back to the eored with the letter still in his keeping. He was too young to die. Quickly he reached into the pockets of his tunic and drew out a yellow envelope. He handed it to the princess. A little hesitant, Lothíriel ripped open the envelope and her eyes scanned the words. A smile lit her face and she softly shook her head.

"Thank you, Elleon. Tell your king I accept his words," she said simply, ignoring the curious looks of her family members. Elleon bowed again to her. Then he gasped and his eyes flew open in shock. He had nearly forgotten. Pushing aside his tabard, he revealed seven lilac wildflowers, still unharmed by the rapid riding. He presented them to the princess who took it, delight and surprised happiness on her face.

"A second message from my King, your highness. He says that four are for the four days you had spent with him at the White City and the other three is for the three weeks you shall grace our homes with your beauty," he said. Lothíriel couldn't believe her ears.

"You jest, kind sir. Those are your words and not King Éomer," she said. Elleon shook his head vigorously.

"Nay, my lady, I swear upon Eorl's horse that those were his very own words," he replied in earnest.

"Well, it seems that Éomer is a poet as well as a warrior," said Imrahil wryly. His son's except Elphir of course, snorted in laughter. Even Elleon smiled and took no offence on their words about his King, for he could see the fondness they bore for King Éomer, especially Princess Lothíriel, who was blushing prettily as she buried her nose in the sweet smell of the wildflowers and keeping a tight hold of Éomer's letter as if it were a precious jewel.

"Aye, my lord, those were Lady Éowyn's words as well," he said. Imrahil laughed even harder.

"My lord, if it pleases I would ask for permission to return back to my eored," he said. Imrahil nodded.

"Of course, boy. Send my regards to your king," he said.

"Aye, my lord. A pleasant and safe journey home, to you and your men, my lord," said Elleon and began to spur his horse in the opposite direction.

"Aye, same to you as well, Rohirrim," replied Imrahil and with a final bow, Elleon rode of back towards Rohan. Imrahil spurred his horse back into a canter as the other followed his lead.

"Well, swan, do you still wish to take back your offer to lady Éowyn?" he asked the still smiling Lothíriel. She turned quickly to him, her eyes wide with horror.

"Father, how could you suggest such a thing! I have given my word to Lady Éowyn that I will help and I mean to honor my words. Indeed, father, what were you thinking to say such a thing?" she half cried and turned back to the flowers in her hand, sniffing the fragrance gently. Imrahil just stared at her, his mouth open. When he wanted to respond to her words, telling her that it had been her insinuation that she didn't want to stay in Edoras, he felt a hand on his arm. He turned to Erchirion.

"Do not try to reason with her logic father, it is fighting a losing battle," he whispered. Imrahil shook his head but adhered to his son's advice. And that was the last that they heard of Lothíriel's complaints.

* * *

It was night, and the stars were scattered brightly against the infinite night sky. Elphir sighed as he watched the white tips of the wave break against the jagged rocks of the beach. He had longed to hear the sound of the crashing waves since he had left his city to patrol the borders a long three months ago, but now that he was here, in his home, by his beloved sea, he was anything but comforted.

"Eli," his father's voice broke into his thoughts and he turned to his father. He had been summoned to Prince Imrahil's study, shortly after dinner and there he was waiting for his father's reprimanding words for his earlier actions towards the King of Mark. But as Imrahil stood up from his chair to join his eldest son at the windowsill, chastise was the last thing on his mind.

"It is beautiful isn't it?" he said softly looking at the ocean before him. Elphir nodded and turned back to it. Imrahil sighed.

"I remembered when I was a child, Finduilas and I would spend hours just running the stretch of the beach. We were convinced that we could circle the entire middle earth. And every night your grandfather would carry us back to our rooms, both of us exhausted but not willing to give up. Eventually, we decided that it was more rewarding to just sit by the beach's end and let the song of the sea comfort us," he said. Elphir remained silent.

"There have only been two things that I wished I could change, and that was your mother's death and second, that my sister never left Dol Amroth," he said. Elphir continued with his silence but turned away. Now they were getting to the heart of it.

"Eli, look at me," he said softly and Elphir turned to look at his father. His eyes startled Imrahil, for he had not expected such pain in his son's eyes.

"Talk to me Eli," he said again. Elphir sighed. Unlike the other boys, Elphir never had trouble talking to his father about anything and everything and when their mother had died, he had spent the whole night in his father's arms, crying, something that many fourteen year olds couldn't say they have done.

"She will never be happy there. She loves the sea, and he could never make her happy," he finally whispered. Imrahil nodded, not because he agreed but he understood what Elphir was feeling. He has felt the same way when he heard news of Finduilas's marriage to Denethor, and though he was right then, now he knew Elphir wasn't. Éomer was not Denethor.

"Eli, do you not think you are moving a step faster than any of us? He does not have any intentions of taking Lothíriel back to Rohan as his bride," he said trying to sooth the fear of his son. Elphir let out a cynical laugh.

"Really father? Then why does he look at her like he would present the stars at her feet?" he answered. Imrahil had to agree on that. No matter what Éomer had told him about marrying only a Rohirrim lady, his actions and his eyes when Lothíriel was around betrayed how he really felt.

"And why would that be such a bad thing, Eli?" he asked. Elphir was silent for a while.

"Because she will be away from us, from me. I do not think I can bear it," he answered finally, his voice breaking slightly. Imrahil rested a hand on his son's shoulder.

"And I could? She is my only daughter, and if I could I would keep her with me forever. But I can't and if it makes her happy, then yes, I will give her to Éomer as his bride," he said. Elphir shook his head, his brow deepening into a frown.

"Father, don't you understand? How can a swan live in a field of horses? How can she be happy without other swans, others of her own kind?" he cried out and rested his head onto the windowsill.

"Own kind? My son, have you forgotten who our new queen is? How do you think her family felt, Elphir? At least we may still visit her, Queen Arwen will _never_ see her father again," said Imrahil with equal frustration. Elphir had nothing to say to that. Imrahil shook his head and laughed slightly.

"We are talking as if she was already betrothed to him," he said his tone much lower. Elphir lifted his head and looked at his father.

"He will ask, it may not be anytime in the near future but he will ask," he said softly. Imrahil nodded. Aye, it was only a matter of time.

"And what should I say when he does, Eli?" he asked. Elphir sighed and thought of his sister. How much he wanted her to always remain by his side, hide her from the world and men who would want to marry her, but he knew to do so would only make her miserable especially if she actually fell in love with one of those males.

"Say whatever that would make Lothíriel happy," he said finally. Surprisingly, he meant it. He no longer hated Éomer for trying to take his sister away, and although it will tear his heart to shreds, he will be happy for them, as long as she's happy as well.

"Well answered, my son. Now, get some rest, I wish to inspect our city tomorrow and I expect you to be with me," he said and moved away from Elphir, sensing that the topic had come to a close. Elphir nodded and began to move towards the door. Just as he was about to leave, he turned.

"Father, I am sorry for embarrassing you with my actions towards King Éomer. When we arrive in Edoras, I will extend my apologies to him," said Elphir. Imrahil smiled. He was glad that matter was resolved as well.

"It has been done. Do not dwell on the past and think instead of tomorrow. I am sure Éomer would understand, as he is a brother himself," said Imrahil, smiling at his son. Elphir nodded but couldn't bring himself to a smile of his own. He simply nodded and left. Imrahil sighed loudly as the door closed behind Elphir.

"Elbereth, let all be well," he silently prayed.

Elphir did not hear his father's words as he walked out of his father's study back to his room. The corridors were dark with only the faintly lit torch to guide his way. But Elphir knew the routes of his home and could find his way in the dark. Just as he was about to turn to the corridor that would take him to his room, a thin stream of light crossed in front of him. Looking up he saw it came from the slightly ajar door of Lothíriel's room. Walking up to the door he peered in. Lothíriel was gazing out the window a wistful look on her face. Elphir took a deep breath and knocked. He heard her dress shuffling as she came to the door and opened it wider.

"Eli," she cried out in surprise. He smiled faintly at her.

"You are not asleep yet, Riel?" he said softly. She nodded and smiled.

"No I could not sleep. Would you like to come in?" she asked suddenly and stood away from the entrance. Elphir hesitated but then walked in, immediately grateful for the warmth. His thoughts had run so deep within his mind, he did not realize how cold he was. He looked around and saw that she had not finished unpacking. Her clothes were draped across every chair and table and trunks lay open, pushed against the wall.

"Why has your maid not finished unpacking your items?" he asked, frowning. Lothíriel moved to stand next to him. She just waved her hand as if to dismiss the mess.

"I told her that I did not need her help as I would be packing again for our trip to Edoras. This way I can see what I have so I may know what to bring and what to leave behind," she said. Elphir nodded.

"Aye, I can see the strategy of it. You should have led the troops to Palennor Field. No doubt you would have the enemy baffled," he said, a little of his dry humor returning, much to Lothíriel's delight. She laughed appreciatively at his words.

"Aye, tis a lost that no one had thought of that," she replied.

"Eli, you may sit on the bed if you wish, I realize that the chairs had to be sacrifice for my brilliant plan," she said and sat herself down on her bed. Elphir followed suit and sat next to her. He looked at his hands for a while, his mind trying to come up with the suitable words. Eventually he looked up to Lothíriel who was sitting crossed leg, looking expectantly at him.

"Riel, I wish to apologize for my behavior towards yourself and King Éomer. I was wrong to act to out of line and make a fool of you," he said. Lothíriel gave him a warm smile and it lifted the heavy feeling in his heart.

"Do not think more of it, Eli. All is forgiven, although I can not say the same for King Éomer's feelings. He is very sensitive concerning his horse, as all Rohirrims are," she said. Elphir rolled his eyes.

"Aye, they are obsessed about their horses. You are right, I shall apologize to king Éomer when we arrive," he said. Lothíriel beamed at him and suddenly jumped up and hugged him. Elphir was caught in surprise and went falling back onto the bed. Lothíriel released him and propped herself up next to him.

"Eli, I just want to assure you that Éomer and I are friends. He has told me that his people expect him to marry a Rohirrim lady, and he will do just that," she said. Elphir nodded but didn't agree. He knew what he saw in the king's eyes. But if that is what Lothíriel wished to believe…

"Riel, if he weren't obliged to marry a Rohan lady, would you consider marrying him?" he asked. She thought for a while, and then shook her head.

"Why not?" Elphir asked in surprise.

"Because then I'll have to move so far away, and I'll be away from father, Chirion, Amer and most importantly, my favorite brother, Eli," she said and dropped her head onto his chest, her eyes looking up at the ceiling. Elphir wrapped a lock of her hair around his finger.

"Is that so? So you wouldn't marry him even though you love him?" he asked again. Lothíriel frowned.

"Love him? Eli, I do not know him to love him," she replied back. Elphir rolled his eyes at her answer, because he knew she was simply trying to wish it true. Lothíriel did not see his reaction and took his silence as agreeing with her. She let out a huge yawn.

"You are tired, I will leave you be," he said and moved to get up. She turned to him, worried that she had offended him. She had just fallen back into his good graces and did not want another cold war between them.

"No, stay if you wish, I am not that tired," she said imploringly. Elphir looked at her scared eyes and he wanted to kick himself for making her feel that way. Smiling tenderly at her, he dropped a warm kiss onto her forehead.

"Well, I am, little swan, and father has already made me promise to accompany him tomorrow around the city," he answered. She accepted his reasonings and smiled back.

"All right then, Eli. Sweet dreams," she said.

"Sweet dreams, Riel," he replied and left her room.

End of Chapter 6

(7,395 words)


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter Seven

**Dol Amroth. **

Lothíriel was awakened by the songs of the seagulls and the echo of waves hitting the beach.

"Its high tide," she said softly as she stretched with catlike grace. She listened a little longer to the familiar and much missed sounds before jumping out of bed, the night's rest doing much to invigorate her after the previous three day's journey. She walked up to her window and inhaled deeply the fresh sea air. A gust of wind blew in and playfully danced around her, causing her hair to twirl around her face and body like black silk threads.

"My lady, you are awake early today," a sound from behind her caused her to turn. She smiled at her maid, Glowen.

"A good morn to you, Glowen, how fares your family?" she asked and walked up to her vanity dresser and sat down before it. Glowen stood behind her, her reflection smiling happily at Lothíriel's.

"We are well, your highness, with Gilwen's safe return," she said as she began to expertly brush Lothíriel's hair. Lothíriel's eyes brightened.

"Glowen, that is wonderful! Why are you here then? You should be home celebrating your brother's return," she said and got up to push her handmaiden out of the room. But Glowen was more persistent than her and pushed her back onto the chair.

"I have spent the week with him, my lady. Now I wish to spend time with you. Honestly, my lady, what were you thinking, running of like that?" said Glowen and her eyes narrowed as if in annoyance but Lothíriel saw the teasing glint in her eyes.

"Do not start, Glowen. I have already been lectured on the consequences of my actions by my father and then my brother," sighed Lothíriel. Glowen laughed a little.

"I am sure Prince Elphir had much to say. It is good to have him back, isn't it my lady?" she said blushing slightly. Lothíriel noticed her rosy parlor and grinned wickedly.

"Only him Glowen? How about the other princes of Dol Amroth?" she asked teasingly and laughed when Glowen blushed harder.

"Of course I meant everyone, Princess Lothíriel, do not tease me so," she replied back, trying hard to hide her embarrassment under a frown. Lothíriel laughed harder. Then Glowen's frown turned upright into a mischievous grin.

"Someone else is back in the city as well," she said as she brushed the final locks of black hair. The tone that Glowen used caused Lothíriel's eyebrow to rise in interest.

"And who may that be?" she asked. Glowen's grin widened.

"Think hard, my lady. Someone you would very much like to meet," she said again and moved away to pick out a dress for Lothíriel.

"Éomer is here!" Lothíriel cried out before she even thought the words. She quickly bit her lips and ducked her head to hide the redness that she knew was climbing up her neck. But Glowen just gave a puzzled look.

"Who is Éomer? I do not think I have ever met him," she asked visibly surprised by the intensity of Lothíriel's outburst. Lothíriel quickly shook her head.

"He is not from here. He is just someone I met in the White City. But that is not the point, Glowen, _who_ has returned?" she asked a little irritated, mostly at herself than the handmaiden. Glowen's grin had returned.

"Oh, just a certain admiral," she began casually. Lothíriel frowned. _Huh? Why would that make me happy? It would make father happy but it wouldn't really affect me._

"You have lost me, Glowen, why would I be happy… I mean I am happy but I do not think that Admiral Cirion… ack!" she suddenly cried out and whirled around to face Glowen. Lord Cirion had not been Dol Amroth's admiral for over ten years.

"Aearon is back!" she cried out again. Glowen couldn't help but laugh at her princess's reaction.

"Aye, my lady. If you had not rushed away to the White City as fast as you did, you would have known that," she said and began the long process of dressing Lothíriel. But Lothíriel hardly noticed. Her thoughts kept on going back to the boy she had spent a lot of her childhood with (mainly because he was the very few males Elphir had not seen as a threat). His father the late Lord Cirion was Prince Imrahil's best friend which meant it was only natural that the children should play together as often as they had done. She remembered how weird she used to think he was, for instead of going on long rides as her brothers, he would prefer to spend hours at the mariner, in one boathouse or another. He would disappear for days at ends and appear out of the blue, redder than the crabs cook would serve sometimes. His hair was unlike any of the other Dol Amrothian. It wasn't black as the majority or gold, but… the brown of earth after a refreshing downpour, with glints of gold, bleached irreparably by the sun.

And for as long as she had known him, she couldn't remember him without a smile or a positive thought. Even when his father died while out searching for survivors in one of Dol Amroth's well known storms, and the whole city was mourning the passing of a great man, he would sit at the beach for hours a peaceful look on his golden brown face, and if anybody asked him how he was coping, he would only give them one answer, _there is nothing to grieve for. He's up there manning the stern of Earandil's great ship_, _and one day I will join him_, and left it at that. Then came the day everyone had expected where Prince Imrahil named him the new Admiral of the Swan Fleet, and she didn't see him as much anymore. Shortly after, the war began, and they drifted further apart, fulfilling whatever role Eru had in store for them. So to hear now that her childhood friend was back and well lifted her heart to higher grounds.

"You are done, my lady," Glowen's voice broke into Lothíriel's reminiscing. The princess gave her a smile and with as much grace as she could master, she quickly made her way to her father's study. When she got there, her brother's and father were already there. And with them was…

"Aearon?" she said uncertainly. She had built such great hopes, she didn't think she could handle the reality that the fifth person was some one else. But when the tall man, wearing the official dark blue navy suit and earth brown hair turned to her and fixed her with the same care free smile she could have recognized in her sleep, she had to blink back tears of joy. What she wanted to do was run up to him and engulf him in a hug. But here she was a princess again and certain rules and regulations had to be obeyed. Instead, what she did was walk up to him and with a huge grin she extended her hand for him to receive with a kiss at the back of her hand, as was custom… and protocol. Aearon fixed her with an amused look as he took her proffered hand and placed a quick kiss.

"Greetings Princess Lothíriel," he said, gazing at her with his twinkling brown eyes.

"Greetings Admiral Aearon, my heart is relieved to see that you are safe," she replied and looked up at him. From behind Elphir snorted.

"And as burnt as ever. Any darker, friend and you shall blend into the night," he said and with that sarcastic jest, the tension and formalness was broken. Laughing, Lothíriel placed a hand around his arm and walked up to her father and brothers', joining them on the cushioned chairs surrounding an oak table.

"Aearon was just telling us about the battle with theCorsairs at the eastern bay," said Amrothos. Lothíriel frowned a little.

"Oh and how did it fare?" she asked feeling a little sad that despite the end of the war, there were still certain parties that would not make peace. Aearon's eyes clouded a little.

"Let us just say that the evil has passed and good will bloom in its place," he said with his normal optimism, the twinkle returning.

"Well said Aearon, your father would have said the same thing," said Imrahil and reached forward to give Aearon a pat on the back.

"That is a compliment of the highest form, your highness and I thank you for it," he said bowing his head a little. Lothíriel reached out and placed a comforting hand on his arm but giggled when he turned and winked at her.

"Princess, what is this I hear of your running away to the White City and falling in love with a king?" he asked giving her his full attention. Lothíriel rolled her eyes. No doubt her brothers had informed him of her unscheduled trip and adding a little here and there.

"I was not running away to fall in love with anyone, Aearon. I heard that father was at the White City and I simply wished to see for myself that he was well, that is all," she said her tone defensive when she saw that he wore a _I don't believe you, but if you say so_ look. He nodded.

"I see. Then I was wrongly informed," he stated and sneaked a peek at the three young prince. Elphir remained calm, Erchirion was grinning from ear to ear, as he had added the falling in love with a king bit, and Amrothos refused to say anything. He would not jinx it.

"Yes, you were," she said firmly. He nodded again the turned to Imrahil.

"Speaking of kings, what of our new king, what are your thoughts your highness?" he asked. Imrahil was thoughtful for a while.

"He has lived a life of self-exile in the forest and has been given the crown without much preparation. But I have complete faith that he will do well," said Imrahil finally and Aearon could tell from his tone that Imrahil held their new king in high respect.

"It is a shame that I could not meet him," said Aearon regretfully.

"If you wish to meet him, you are most welcome to join us when we leave for Rohan in four days time," said Imrahil after a while.

"Why Rohan? Is that not further north of Gondor?" asked Aearon, puzzlement marring his handsome features.

"It is to pay respect to a fallen king and to behold the crowning of a new one," said Imrahil again. Aearon nodded but the words had no effect on him. He did not care for any King of another city. All he wanted now was to get back onto his ship and sail as he had done for the past months. Elphir, being the closest of the four to him, read his thoughts clearer than the clear surface of a lake.

"Why don't you come with us, Aearon? It will be a welcome change from the wooden boards of your ship," he said. Aearon laughed. Him, away from his beloved ship? Not in this age.

"I thank you, Prince Elphir, but I shall have to pass," he said and to him the matter was dismissed. What could be more welcoming than the salty sea wind in his face and the sturdy wooden deck under his feet? But Imrahil did not think so.

"Why not, Aearon? As the admiral of this city's fleet your homage to our king is long overdue. You shall accompany us," said Imrahil with finality.

"Aearon, do not look so pale. You will enjoy Rohan I am sure," said Lothíriel as Aearon took a glass of bourbon from a sniggering Amrothos. Amrothos could not remember a day when Aearon had been away from the sea.

"Aye, you and King Éomer will have plenty to talk about," said Amrothos. At this Aearon brightened. If the Rohan King shared the same interest as him then Rohan must not be that far from the sea.

"Is that so? I suppose Rohan is closer to the sea that I had thought," he said happily. The four men burst into laughter and Lothíriel looked at him sympathetically.

"Nay, Amer is only playing with you, Aearon. Edoras is leagues and leagues away from the shores. In fact, there are very few Rohirrims who have seen the sea and Éomer is not one of them," she said. Aearon inhaled deeply.

"And how long will we be there?" he asked.

"Four days on horse, three days there and three days back," answered Elphir through his laughter. Aearon buried his head in his hands. Ten days away from Dol Amroth and his ships, and seven of those days will be on a horse.

"I do not know which is worst, Ten days of no sailing or seven days on horseback," he sighed and the laughter grew louder. Even Lothíriel cracked a little smile.

"Ah well, if that is what my prince would wish me to do, then ride a horse I shall," he said finally and he too laughed at the image of him bouncing uncomfortably on a horse. He shook his head.

"My lord, I hope our king is worth the pain I shall no doubt suffer," he said to Imrahil.

"Aye, that and the hospitality of the Rohirrim ale would be worth it," said Imrahil his laughter beginning to reside, although Erchirion's laughter had begun to increase. It took the arrival of one of the servants to announce breakfast for any laughter to finally die down.

Breakfast passed quickly as Prince Imrahil was most eager to begin his ride about his city. Aearon excused himself to return to the harbor and Erchirion and Amrothos were more eager to join the patrolling of the city walls than ride. So, it was Imrahil, Elphir and Lothíriel who walked up to the royal stables to meet with the stable master, Diego.

"Good morning, my lords and lady," he greeted the three royals as they entered the stables.

"Good Morning, Diego," replied Imrahil and walked up to his saddled horse. Elphir and Lothíriel echoed his words and they too moved towards their horses. Lothíriel gave Hermés a loving kiss on the nose before mounting him. The three left the stables and met up with Imrahil's advisors who had begun earlier to prepare for Imrahil inspection. Their route consisted mainly of the road that made the outskirts of the city. And as a beach front was wont to be, there were many large sand tors scattered about Dol Amroth and several had formed a border around the city, reinforced with thick stone walls. Imrahil usually uses the route as it allowed him a bird's eye view of his city. It wasn't long before Lothíriel began to feel bored of the conversation between her father and his advisors. She spurred her horse to canter next to Elphir, who was listening attentively to what the advisors had to say.

"Eli," she whispered. He did not look at her. She whispered again this time a little louder and it caught his attention.

"Yes?" he asked trying to listen to her and pay attention to the other men as well.

"May I ride by myself for a while?" she asked softly, not intending her father to hear. But when the word by "herself" was mentioned, her father snapped his head towards her.

"Where do you wish to ride?" he asked, frowning a little. He didn't completely trust Lothíriel to not wonder away from the city gates, and frankly there were still too many dangers out there.

"Only around here, father. I do wish to go to the market," she said, pointing towards a large cluster of makeshift stands that was being set up in the middle of the city centre. It was crowded with people pushing carts of fruits and fish, and women with baskets laden with food. Set up on either side of the main road that ran through the city were stalls of all shapes and sizes, selling a variety of items, most of them materials that had been bartered during the trip to the White City. Imrahil nodded and reminded her to be home by noon. Thanking her father happily, Lothíriel spurred her horse into a gallop as she rode down the path that would join to the market place. Once she was there, she dismounted her horse and leisurely began to walk amongst the people, her people, at the same time, keeping a firm hold of Hermés's reins.

But of course whatever sense of anonymity she had hoped to achieve was soon thwarted when the women around her began realizing her presence. Almost immediately after the first woman noticed her, she found herself in the middle of groups of people, all of them she knew by name and all wanting to tell her about the joy of their loved ones return, how relived they were that she was safe, and was the new King as handsome as the rumors say he was? Several young girls gave her small bouquets of white flowers which she accepted graciously much to their delight. Eventually her words satisfied their curiosity and slowly the crowds began to resume their daily activity allowing her to continue her walk.

She made sure to stop at each stall and if she didn't purchase anything, she would instead strike up a conversation with the vender, asking them of their family and the return of sons and husbands, laughing when the news was wonderful and offering comforting words when the news was bad. Lothíriel had no qualms about lowering herself to level of a child and kissing a scratched knee or elbow and would unflinchingly gaze upon a man with scars that would cause the strongest of stomachs to churn in disgust. She had been dubbed the people's princess and had yet to fail her duties or the title bestowed on her. During the war, it was she who had managed to convince the prim and proper ladies of the court to lay down their sewing and snooty airs to help those wounded. She was also the one who would lie awake all night looking after children as their mothers cried over the dead bodies of their husbands, then turning to the same mothers and consoling them. Even now, garbed in the silks and satins entitled to a royal princess, Lothíriel easily fitted in with her people and the love she had for her people were only surpassed by the love her people had for her.

The days passed easily and quickly, with Imrahil and his sons already throwing themselves whole heartedly into the rebuilding of the Swan City. Villages outside the city walls that had been plundered were slowly beginning to take shape again and water tainted by the filth of the enemy cleansed for usage. Forgetting that he was battle worn with still some bruises that needed heeling, it would not be unusual to find the ruling prince of the city in the middle of sweating men, hauling a piece of log to another or hammering nails into foundations surrounded by his sons, also involved in the manual labor. So by the time the sun set on the day before their departure to Edoras, the glory that was once Dol Amroth was gradually being restored.

Lothíriel sighed contentedly as she tucked the folds of her skirt around her toes and hugged her knees closer to her body. She was alone on the beach, her eyes looking over the wide expanse of the calm sea. A gust of wind blew over her and she shivered, having only a little shawl draped over her shoulders.

"Princess, you should know better than to come out at night with little to warm you," a familiar voice said behind her and she felt a thick cloak fall against her body, immediately giving warmth to her cold limbs. Smiling, she watched Aearon sit down beside her.

"Eli was right, any darker and you will blend into the night," she said and he laughed, his white teeth bright against his dark skin.

"Then I shall paint myself a vessel of black night and together we shall sail away, invisible to the naked eye," he said, not taking his eyes of the sea. Lothíriel laughed and fondly remembered how his poetic garble would drive her brothers crazy sometimes, especially when they needed a straight answer from him.

"You haven't changed at all," she said resting her head on her knees, the coarseness of the woolen cloak scratching against her smooth cheeks.

"And how would you want me to change?" he asked, turning to look at her. Lothíriel shrugged her shoulders.

"I don't know, it's just that with war, most of the happiest men I have met have turned a little bitter and their eyes have a tragic look in them. But you have yet to loose your smile or that twinkle in your eyes," she answered back. Aearon's grin grew bigger.

"Well, I can assure you I wasn't smiling when we were up against the Easterlings. But the race of men are safe and the prophesied King has ascended the throne, Dol Amroth will prosper so why shouldn't I smile?" he said.

"You are ever the optimist, Aearon. Do not change," she said turning to look at the sea. But Aearon kept his eyes on her.

"I have no intentions of changing, princess. But you have," he said. Lothíriel turned to him in surprise.

"Me? Change? I am still the same, Aearon," she said in protest laughing a little at the absurdity of his words. But Aearon shook his head.

"No, the Lothíriel I remembered would have thrown custom to the wind and bounded across the room to give an old friend a hug. She would have also spurred her horse into a gallop to where she wanted to go than demurely ask for permission, much less sit sidesaddle. That Lothíriel would have also been begging me to take her sailing at any given opportunity, very unladylike and highly improper, I must add. She also wasn't such a beauty that the gardens of Yavanna would turn green in envy," he finished. Lothíriel gaped at her friend open mouthed.

"Aearon, I was serious and you tease me so," she said, glad that the night hid her pink cheeks. Aearon shrugged.

"I wasn't teasing, simply telling you the truth. You have changed from a wild, unruly girl to an elegant and refined lady, that is all," he said. Lothíriel smacked him on the arm.

"I was never unruly, Aearon, just high spirited," she protested.

"Oh, is that the royal term for it? Forgive my peasant ignorance," he said grinning as she smacked him again. Then she turned to the sea again.

"I will miss the sea," she sighed softly.

"Where are you going?" he asked in surprise.

"I am remaining in Rohan," she said. Aearon let out a strangled sound. Lothíriel turned to him and saw that his eyes were wide and his jaw was hanging a little off its hinges.

"You are marrying a man from Rohan?" he finally gasped out. Lothíriel was stunned at his words. Aearon flinched then frowned.

"It is that king isn't it? What is his name, the man Erchirion said you had fallen in love with," he continued. At that Lothíriel snapped out of her shock.

"What are you talking about? I am not getting married!" she cried out. Aearon's frown turned to puzzlement.

"But you said you were moving to Rohan," he said. Lothíriel rolled her eyes. Is it possible that there was someone who didn't know she was going to spend three weeks in Rohan? Since word had leaked out that was all the people of her city could talk about and Glowen was more than happy to express her distress of an unmarried princess in an unmarried King's city. Even Imrahil's advisors had tried to talk him against it, making clear their fear of their precious swan princess in the city of smelly horse lords. That particular advisor had received such a tongue clipping from Imrahil, it was said he was still red from the embarrassment.

"No, Aearon, I will remain in Rohan for three weeks, to help Lady Éowyn with her preparation to join the Gondor court when she becomes the princess of Ithilien," she explained. Aearon exhaled deeply the grinned sheepishly at her.

"Oh, right, yes, I knew that. I was just trying to tease you," he answered then his grin dropped a little.

"But are you?" he asked. Lothíriel looked at him, puzzled again.

"Am I what?" she asked, her tone taking an exasperated edge. Aearon heard it and grinned a little more.

"In love with the Rohan king?" he said again. Lothíriel buried her head in her arms before answering her tone angry.

"NO! I am not in love with Éomer! We are friends! Just friends. And we are definitely not getting married! I wish people would get that through their thick skulls! If I have to bear one more person asking me that I will scream till the bottoms of sea tremor at the sound!" she cried out in exasperation, her voice magnified by the silence of the place. Aearon held out his hands in surrender.

"I just asked, princess. I meant no offense. Fine, you are not in love with the Rohan King. Have pity on me and do not cause the sea to shake, I already have to spend thirteen days away from it," he said and his words made her laugh.

"Aye and what a tragedy that is," she said, her anger already subsiding. He put on a sad look.

"I agree, I am traumatized just thinking of it. I just hope that the days pass by quickly and granted a speedy return to Dol Amroth," he said and he sounded so dejected Lothíriel had to laugh again. She placed a hand on his arm.

"Do not despair so. Perhaps you will enjoy the horse ride and decide that you are a horse lover than a sea lover," she said. He gave her a look that said it would never happen in this age or any other. Suddenly, the sound of someone calling Lothíriel's name caused them to turn back to the palace. Standing on one of the balconies facing the sea was her father. Lothíriel shouted out a reply then turned back to Aearon. He was cringing and held a hand to his ears.

"I was wrong, you haven't changed. That was no voice of a lady," he said. Lothíriel just grinned and stood up. Aearon did the same and together they returned to the palace.

**Rohan**

He stared blindly at the fresh mound in front of him. The earth was still wet and brown, unlike the other mounds which were covered in green grass and white flowers. In his right hand, he held the shovel, the mud beginning to dry at the tips of the shovel, having had partaken in the digging of the knoll, the least he could do for the man who had provided a roof over his and Éowyn's head, taught him to fight, ride a horse into battle, enjoy the pleasures of a pint of ale and a willing female body after a victorious battle and most importantly, loved him as he did his own son. In his arm was his sister, her face grey from the pain deep within her heart, and her eyes shiny from unshed tears. Around them, heads bent low, the proud flag of the white horse flying among them, were those who had spent years fighting along side the old king, men who would have followed their king to the edges of the world had he just said the word. The same men that would now serve him, their new king.

_Uncle, I am not ready. How can I possibly be king to all these people? Why did you land me with such responsibility? Why did you leave us? _The thoughts rolled around in his head, overlapping each other, muddling his already muddled mind. Then a soft and mournful tune rose from those gathered, becoming stronger as more voices joined in the song. Éomer heard his own baritone voice joining in with them, and for that moment the men were linked by their voices. They sang of hope, they sang of love, they sang of the end and then the beginning. And as if Théoden had heard their singing, the sky suddenly broke into soft showers with the sun's rays shinning between them. Éowyn gave Éomer a nudge and pointed to the sky beyond their heads. Spanning across the vast sky in an arc, of what seemed to be right above their city, was a rainbow. The last gift from their fallen king, a blessing to the new rule of Rohan. Éomer smiled through his tears and pulled Éowyn closer to him.

"My lord, we should return to the palace," Helfast gently broke into their thoughts. Éomer looked around him to see the men looking expectantly at him, waiting for his lead. Éomer nodded and released Éowyn's waist, but reached down to take her hand. He was glad that at least death had spared him one family member. Ah, well, at least he can take solace that his uncle had died in his right of mind, defending the land he loved, no longer under the spell of the treacherous Wormtongue's words.

He and Éowyn made their way up the now wet and muddy path to Meduseld, refusing the usage of horses to climb the steep mount upwards. As it had been since Eorl, only family members and soldiers of his eored were allowed to attend the burial of a king. Other people would have to take satisfaction in climbing up the walls of the city and watch the procession from a far. But that didn't mean they loved him any less, and Éomer felt it was their right to be able to share their grief with him, and so his reason to refuse to ride back to Meduseld. He and Éowyn entered the big gates of the city, beyond it, his people already waiting to offer their condolences. He accepted their words with a smile and gratitude, never being too mighty to bend down on his knees and accept tokens from the youngest of his people, or hug momentarily those who were crying so hard to say anything. To his right, Éowyn had already had her arms full of flowers and was patiently letting the women give brief kisses on her pale cheeks. And so it was all the way towards the palace, and even before the siblings were about to enter the building, they turned one last time to wave to their subjects who were standing eagerly at the base of the steps.

"It is over," Éomer breathed out as he sat down on one of the plush sofas in his newly acquired study. It had belonged to Théoden and Thengel, his grandsire. Sighing loudly Éomer surveyed the scene around him. The several tables cluttered to the side were littered with maps, quills and ink bottles. To the farthest end of the room, behind a huge oak table were four bookshelves, overflowing with books and papers. The bookshelves were engraved with galloping horses around its borders and the oak table before it had scenes of grazing horses on the sides, to complement the embroidery on the chair situated behind it. On all four walls were tapestries, retelling the story of Eorl and the founding of Edoras. And where he was seated, to the corner of the room, was a small family area, with chairs facing a hearth.

Éomer had spent many nights in front of the fire with his sister, uncle and cousin, sometimes listening to his uncle's childhood days and tales of past battles, sometimes laughing or moaning about their daily lives and sometimes, just sitting in silence, enjoying each other's presence. It was there also that Théoden had sat all night, not speaking a word with a stricken Éomer when he had returned from his first battle and experienced first hand the brutality of such blood spilling. Éomer knew that his uncle did not have to do so, as Eorlings were expected to overcome their initial shock by themselves, so the fact that Théoden had sat all night with him, only increased his love for his uncle… and the pain that now his uncle was gone forever. Well, maybe not forever. Perhaps they will meet again, when it was Éomer's turn to lay to rest.

"What are your thoughts, brother?" Éowyn's asked gently, settling herself next to him. He draped a hand around her shoulders and pulled her closer.

"It will be so different now, without uncle and soon, without you," he said. Éowyn wrapped her hands tighter around her brother's middle.

"You can always come and visit, and I will come and visit occasionally as well," she said.

"Edoras will always be your home and if Faramir ever treats you badly…"

"Yes, I know, you and the rage of Riddermark will sweep upon him in all fury and take me back to safety. You have repeated yourself enough times," laughed Éowyn. Éomer chuckled a little too. He supposed he had been a little too protective.

"It is good you remember that and that husband of yours should be reminded as well," he said. Éowyn smiled then pulled away slightly to look at him.

"Éomer, you will not hassle Faramir when they arrive in two days time," she said sternly. Éomer gave her an innocent look.

"Sister, it did not cross my mind at all," he said. Éowyn narrowed her eyes at him.

"I mean it, Éomer. Just because we are on your turf now, you will not scare my love or I shall never speak to you again!" she said again. Éomer placed a hand on his heart.

"I swear that I will not scare Faramir from you," he said solemnly. Éowyn was not convinced.

"And no challenging him to a race across the plains _OR_ challenging him in the arena," she said. Éomer cringed. Damn, she was perceptive. He would have enjoyed seeing Faramir trying to keep his horse steady on the rough terrains or seeing him struggling to not fall from a wild horse.

"Fine, I swear that too," he said dryly, rolling his eyes as he said so. Éowyn grinned at him and patted his head.

"That's my good boy," she cooed at him. Then a small knock on the door caused them to turn and see a lady standing by it, a sad smile on her face. She was barely taller than Éowyn and was one of the very few Rohirrims who had dark brown hair. Unlike Éowyn, her complexion was more golden from the sun and full red lips with sparkling brown eyes. One would say that she had the features of a bronze angel, as was the innocence projected across her face. Right now however, they were downcast and her lips, that would normally be curved into a smile was slightly tilted at the corners. When the two acknowledge her presence, she dropped into a graceful curtsey, a habit of second nature.

"My Lord and Lady, forgive me for interrupting," she said her voice much softer and demure than Éowyn's. Éowyn stood up from her seat and walked over to the lady.

"Helena, since when had we become so formal with each other," Éowyn addressed their Chief of Marshal's daughter.

"Since father told me that things have changed and that our childhood days have passed us," she said, repeating the words of Helfast, her voice having tinges of remorse in it. Although she and Éomer only knew each other through Éowyn, Helena and Éowyn had spent many summers frolicking the meadows of Rohan and she was sad to have it all reduced to only memories. Éowyn let out a laugh.

"What nonsense. I only have three weeks here, and I intend of creating as much havoc and I depend on you to be there with me," she said pointedly. Helena laughed as she thought back to the chaos the two little girls had done, much to the grief and despair of the Chief of Marshal and the king.

"So we are still as we were?" she asked. Éowyn nodded and grinned. Helena sighed with relief and in a flash had engulfed Éowyn in a fiery hug. Gone was the gentleness and demureness.

"Do you know that my heart nearly stopped when I heard that you had been badly injured!" she cried out and hugged Éowyn tighter before releasing her. Éowyn grinned at her friend.

"Quite impressive, don't you think? But I'm alright now," she said. Helena shook her head.

"I do not know which to be more upset about. That you had dressed as a man and nearly gotten yourself killed or that you're about to marry a man from Gondor," she said, with such disappointment. Éowyn laughed as she knew Helena was only jesting.

"I agree with you, Helena. No doubt her injury messed up her mind," said Éomer from behind his sister. Helena laughed at Éowyn's dagger look at Éomer.

"Aye, honestly Éowyn. There are so many men here in Riddermark and you chose a Gondorian weakling," she said in disgust and took a seat adjacent from Éomer.

"He is not a Gondorian weakling!" she cried out in protest.

"He is braver than a lot of the men here, he is sensitive but strong, gentle but firm, handsome and sweet and he loves me," she said the last bit with a dreamy look on her face.

"So doeth thaws the heart of the ice queen," said Helena her look one of bewilderment as she watched her friend walk around the room a wistful look on her face. Helena had never seen her friend so smitten before; this was truly a new side of Éowyn she was seeing. It was obvious that Éowyn was lost in her thoughts so Helena turned to Éomer.

"My lord, I am sorry for your loss, and grieve as well but my heart sings gladly on yours and Lady Éowyn's safe return," she said, her demure tone returning.

"Helena, you are spared from such formalities with me as well. I will have enough of all that later," he said. Helena dropped her demure act and smirked at him.

"That I can assure you of. Not to mention all the fawning that will soon take place as well. The court ladies are just waiting for permission from Feälef before they begin to sink their claws into your skin," she added with a huge grin. Éomer gave her a withering look.

"Thank you. I truly wish to be reminded that I am now no better than a caged animal trained to entertain," he said and sighed again. Helena laughed.

"Even caged animals may roam free one day. So tell me, how does this Faramir look like?" she asked looking at him expectantly.

"He is a scholar, he looks like a girl with curls in his hair and is thin like a stick," he said. Helena's eyes widen. Why would Éowyn want to marry such a man? But the she saw the twinkle in his eyes and knew she had been tricked.

"You almost had me there, Éomer. I have never met a Gondorian man before, is it true their skin is the color of a frog's underbelly?" she asked, her face alight with interest. Éomer swallowed a laugh. How he wished Aragorn or Faramir was here to hear Helena's words. Their faces would indeed be worth to see.

"Nay, they are not that pale, and they are good people. The Oath of Eorl had been renewed and once again Gondor and Rohan shall ride together, as Cirion and Eorl had done a long time ago," he said and his face turned serious as he said the words. Helena nodded.

"I am glad that Éowyn has found someone worthy of her, even if she has to move so far away," said Helena and looked wistfully at Éowyn who had finally taken a seat but her eyes looking deeply into the ambers of the simmering fire. With Éowyn gone, she would have no choice but to join the other daughters of noblemen and they can be so boring.

"You shall be able to meet them when they arrive in a few days time. Ah, there shall be much celebrations to welcome our guests," he said and grinned at the thought of seeing his friends again. They will be a wonderful distraction.

"If I may ask, will the new king come as well?" Helena asked for although Gondor and Rohan had a peaceful relationship, never has the reigning sovereign really attended the functions of either city, sending instead representatives.

"Yes, King Elessar and his queen, and Faramir, naturally, and also Prince Imrahil, his three sons and daughter," said Éomer his words slightly wobbly at the mention of Imrahil's daughter. Éomer wondered if Lothíriel had truly forgiven him or had Elleon sugar coated the truth to save his king's ego? Helena caught the catch and raised an eyebrow in amusement.

"A daughter, is it? Am I right that she is…oh… _unmarried_?" she asked her eyes glinting mischievously. At the mention of Faramir, Éowyn was brought back to the present and heard Helena's teasing words. Now she will repay her brother for his words against Faramir.

"Oh, yes, very much unmarried. Tis a shame really as she is a princess and other princes in her realm are unfortunately related to her, so she can not marry a man of her status. She will have to marry a common nobleman, so unfitting for a lady of her position," sighed Éowyn dramatically. Helena caught on quickly.

"Aye, I see her dilemma. The poor father that his daughter must marry below her title. But rightfully only a king would be of rank with her," said Helena sighing as well. Éomer had clamped his mouth shut and was beginning to become a little sulky. Éowyn glanced a look at him and had to stop herself from bursting into laughter.

"And where is this modern age will we be able to find a king, unmarried to say the least?" she asked and Helena nodded in agreement. Then in perfect timing as if they had rehearsed it before hand, both ladies' eyes grew wider, their mouths gaping open a little.

"Éomer, you are a king…" they began and began to smile broadly as they turned to him. Éomer glowered as best as he could at the two, trying hard to keep his face from turning bright red.

"I do not know what you two are implying so cease your silly chatter," he growled at them and quickly got up to his feet.

"I must seek out Feälef, concerning the accommodations of our guests. Try to keep out of trouble both of you," he said sternly and in a flash he was gone. Éowyn let out a loud laugh, and Helena joined in.

"I have never seen your brother so squeamish when it comes to a lady before," Helena said her laugh dying down to a chuckle.

"If you think him squeamish now, wait till he is face to face with her. He is like a boy experiencing his first yearning," Éowyn replied.

"She must be beautiful then," said Helena. Éowyn nodded.

"Yes, I do not think Éomer, being the man he is, would have noticed if she wasn't. But after the first meeting, she proved to be more than a pretty face. Indeed she is no docile princess," said Éowyn and began to tell Helena of Lothíriel's few escapades while in the white city. Helena's eyes were wide with astonishment by the time Éowyn was done.

"She sound more raucous that you," exclaimed Helena. Éowyn shook her head.

"Nay, that is the thing, she isn't. She very much a lady most of the time. If I had not gotten to know her well, I would think her a little tipsy in the head, as her behaviors change so quickly," said Éowyn. Helena grinned.

"Why not, we have everything else, so why shouldn't Rohan have a tipsy queen," she said. At these words Éowyn took on a grim face.

"Oh no, Éomer has made it clear that he has no desire to wed her," she said dryly. Helena cocked an eyebrow.

"But you said he was quite infatuated by her, why would he not wed her?" she asked. Éowyn snorted in derision.

"He has gotten into his head that he must only marry a Rohirrim lady, to please our people. According to him, that is what the people expect of him" she said.

"Well, I can not deny I have heard the same thing, but it is mostly idle talk over too many pints of ale. Many of the past queens have been of Gondor birth and as long as she is no fragile being, afraid of the smallest things, the people will love her anyway," she said.

"That is not what Éomer believes," she said. Helena shrugged her shoulders.

"Perhaps in the days she will stay here, he will see that her place of birth does not matter, and marry her anyway," she said. Éowyn sat upright her face animated.

"Aye, I thought of that too. So I had invited her to stay in Rohan for three weeks to help me prepare for life in the Gondor court," said Éowyn. Helena smiled. Now this is the Éowyn she knew. No doubt Éowyn had it all planned out. Helena almost felt a twinge of pity for her king. _The poor man, if Éowyn will have it her way, which she will, Éomer will fall in love with the princess whether he wants to or not._

"And if he is still unconvinced, then he deserves to marry the power hungry Rohirrim ladies," said Helena. Éowyn nodded vigorously.

"Yes, but not before we do our best, as I expect you to help me," she said.

"I shall assist where needed, Éowyn. I do not know this princess but if you hold her high in regard then I have no doubt she is worth such effort," said Helena. Éowyn beamed at her and reached forward to hug her friend.

"I believe she is and I just know she will be a great queen for our people. The only person I can think to be a better candidate than her is you," said Éowyn. Helena pulled a face.

"Nay, I do not wish to be queen. And I regard your brother as mine that the thought of marrying him makes my stomach churn," said Helena and her face did take up a slight green tinge. Éowyn laughed.

"Now I can not wait for our friends to arrive. This will indeed be the best three weeks of our lives," she said and leaned back against her chair, happy as a mare in a luscious meadow. _Éomer, this is one battle you will not win_.

End of Chapter 7

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	8. Chapter 8

Chapter Eight

"Are we there yet?" Aearon's voice could be heard for the third time within the six leagues between Erthellond and Morthlond. Lothíriel who was riding alongside him covered her mouth to hide her grin. Honestly, Aearon was acting like a child and perhaps a child would not be that troublesome. Elphir, on the admiral's other side, had begun to loose patience.

"No, Aearon, we are not," he said thru gritted teeth. That made Lothíriel press her hand harder against her lips as she knew Aearon's whining was solely to irritate the crown prince, as a payback for putting into Prince Imrahil's head that he should accompany the group to Edoras. And it seemed to be working as Elphir was red in the face, and the sun had barely reached the middle of the sky.

"But Eli… I need to relieve myself," he whined harder, pursing his lips into a pout. If there was anything Elphir disliked more than a fully grown whining man was a pouting one. Reaching out he grabbed the front of Aearon's tunic.

"Then pee on the damn horse for all I care, just stop whining," he growled. From the front, Imrahil and his two other son's could be heard laughing. Behind them among the soldiers, several snickers could be heard. Aearon pouted a little harder but the growing dark look of Elphir's face quickly changed the pout into a grin. In a show of momentary peace, Aearon steered his horse to trot beside Lothíriel, away from Elphir.

"Aearon, you are mean to bait my brother so," said Lothíriel softly. Aearon grinned at her.

"Not as mean as making me ride a horse, princess. Nay, he is getting his just rewards, and there is still a day more till we reach our destination, on which I shall entertain myself… at the expense of your brother of course," he matter-of-factly. Lothíriel couldn't help laugh. They had been on the road for two and a half days already, and Lothíriel was grateful to Aearon for the source of entertainment. Lothíriel laughed a little more as she thought of their first night on the road. All were tired and she for one had been glad to retire to her tent. Just as she was about to fall asleep, she heard a scuffle outside the tent. In haste she ran out of the tent only to see her brother standing over a fallen Aearon, who I may add, was grinning form ear to ear, while trying to look hurt as well.

"But Eli… I'm afwaid of the dark. I wanna sleep wiv you," he said imitating perfectly a small child. It seemed that Elphir had dove under his blanket just before to find an admiral already in it. The look on Elphir's face as the men tactfully hid their grin was to be cherished. He was gaping like a fish; his eyes wide in disbelief and in the end just stormed into his tent and slammed the tent flap shut. Aearon had gotten up to his feet, his grin still intact and not a hint of remorse or embarrassment on his brown face as he retired to his tent, not without a wink at Lothíriel.

Lothíriel was brought back to the present when her horse pulled back abruptly to prevent colliding with the back of Erchirion's horse. It seemed that Prince Imrahil had ordered a stop at the beginning of what seemed to be a winding valley. Lothíriel looked pass his head to the towering mountains before her, so high up that several of the tips were lost within the clouds. In between the mountains was a small road just enough for two horses to ride side by side. Imrahil turned to look at his men and family.

"Not many of you have taken the paths between the _Ered__ Nimrais_, but those of you who have, you know of the danger of this route. Be warned that the mountains do not take well to clamor of any such, and in years have only tolerated the placid footsteps of horses. So do not spur your steed to move beyond a trot and do not speak, not even a hush no louder than the dropping of a tear. It is nearly half a day's ride through the mountains and Edoras lies just beyond these paths. Remember, do not cause any sudden movements from your ride or you will have the mountains shed their mighty wraths of snow upon us, imprisoning us within with only little provisions," Imrahil paused to allow the full meaning of his words to sink in.

"Now, if you are all ready," he continued and when his followers nodded, he turned his horse back towards the opening of the valley. He spoke softly to his horse and then pushed him into a soft jog. Lothíriel followed his lead.

"Remember, Hermés, not a sound," she whispered. Hermés moved his head, not emitting a sound, like he understood her words. Aearon rolled his eyes.

"If we were on a ship, she would glide pass the temperamental mountains, so quiet that they would not even know of her presence," he whispered to her. Lothíriel wanted to reply but Aearon had already moved forward, irritating Elphir one last time by reaching out to hold Elphir's arm and moaning quietly;

"Eli, I'm scared, can I ride with you? Will you hold my hand?"

Then there was silence.

The ride did indeed take a whole day, but Lothíriel hardly noticed it as she was so in awe of the mountains along her side. In her eyes they were the icon of greatness, a sign to all those who saw it, the presence of a great and powerful force, greater than all of middle earth together. As she looked on, she saw that some had massive holes along its sides, forming deep depression across the smoothly snow surfaced plane. A reminder that He who created greatness can one day easily turn around and destroy it. Beside the towering testimony of prowess, there was little growth, and only pathetic brownish-green shrubs growing at the very base of the mountains but she did not need the soothing presence of greenery when she was facing the pureness of white. Before she or anybody else knew it, they had safely passed the unpredictable route and had emerged on the other side, secure on Rohan soil.

Lothíriel felt like she had stepped into another world altogether. Never had she even pictured a place to be like this, for spreading out before her was land. Leagues and leagues of land, coated in lush green grass, going on for miles undisturbed by hillocks or even trees.

"It is like a green sea," she exclaimed out loud. Amrothos who had ridden out beside her nodded.

"Get used to it sister, for this is all you shall see for the next three weeks," he said not unkindly. Lothíriel did not know how to respond to that.

"Come, there is still several hours till sunset. If we hurry, we can make it to Edoras by nightfall," said Imrahil before setting out into a full gallop. Immediately those in his group followed, the horses more than relieved to be doing more than the aggravating trot. Then just as the sun was laying down to rest beyond the horizon, they saw it. For no longer was the land barren of anything but grass, as before them scatters of hills, some were only slightly smaller than the smallest mountain. The other surrounding smaller hills each was cluttered with homes and bustling with life. Imrahil lead them towards the largest of these hills, and Lothíriel knew this was Edoras for standing tall and proud at the peak, glinting gold in the rays of the setting sun was no doubt Meduseld, the once home of Eorl the Young. Having seen her father do so, Lothíriel slowed her horse into a jog as did the others. They rode silently towards the huge thick gates, the only entrance within the mighty fortress.

"You have trespassed on the land of Éomer King, Leader of Rohan, O men from strange lands. Identify yourselves as friend or foe so we may treat you as we see fit," a hidden voice shouted down to them. Imrahil raised a hand and from somewhere between his men a banner of a white swan against blue background rose up, flying proudly against the wind.

"I am Prince Imrahil of Dol Amroth, here by invitation of your king, O voice with no face. Allows us in, as we are neither foe nor strange," shouted back Imrahil and Lothíriel couldn't help grin as her father threw back the barb at the guard. There was silence before a shuffling sound was heard. Then the sound of wooden doors being pulled entered their ears and it wasn't long when the oak gates of Edoras were drawn open. At the doorway, atop a great black horse was a man, and judging by the length of his stirrups he was mighty in height. He rode forward to Imrahil and bowed his head, a hand on his chest.

"Welcome to the Mark, Prince Imrahil. Your presence has been expected. I am Helfast, son of Hammond, Chief Marshal of the Mark," he said respectfully. Imrahil smiled at him and reached out for a handshake that was warmly returned.

"Thank you, Chief Marshal. I speak for all in my company when I say it is good to be here, as the trip has been long," he said. Helfast nodded.

"Of course, my lord. Also, the entourages of Minas Tirinth and Ithilien have arrived, so they will be eager to meet you, my lord. Please, shall we proceed in, so you and your men may rest and feast on the warm food and ale prepared?" said Helfast a big smile on his face. Imrahil brightened at the words.

"Why are you still speaking then, son of Hammond? Lead us in!" he cried out and with a laugh Helfast alongside Imrahil began their ride up the dusty path to the Golden Halls. Lothíriel took the opportunity to look at the city where she will be spending the next three weeks in. It was very different from Dol Amroth that was for certain. Here the air was still and hot, unlike Dol Amroth which was constantly subjected to the sea breeze, resulting in a nice cool effect. The roads were also made of coarse red sand rather than the fine white sands that usually found their way into the city. And where Dol Amroth was flat, Edoras was uneven with small hills jumping out here and there giving an uneven look to the arrangement of houses, as in Dol Amroth, houses were lined in single files around the border of the city.

But the two cities did show some similarities and that was the liveliness and simplicity of the people and their unabashed staring at strangers that entered the walls, as the Rohirrims were doing with her and her group. Lothíriel caught a young girl staring at her with wide eyes and instead of being offended at being gaped at; she waved at the young girl and smiled at her. The girl waved back timidly then hid her face within the fold of her mother's skirt. Lothíriel was unable to continue her assessment for they had reached the front steps of Meduseld and Éomer and Imrahil were already encased in a bear hug. As was proper, Lothíriel waited for one of her brother's to assist her from her horse. Instead, it was Éomer who was standing at her feet, his hands raised for hers. Smiling shyly she placed both hands on his shoulders as he wrapped his around her waist and carried her down.

"Welcome to Edoras, princess," he said softly so only she would hear. She looked up at his blue eyes and felt a wave of longing pass through her.

"Thank you, my lord. You have a beautiful home," she said. Éomer visibly beamed at her praise but said humbly.

"But I am sure it is not as beautiful as Dol Amroth, as it is so different," he said.

"I believe that it is the difference that makes both our homes beautiful," she answered back. Éomer grinned at her.

"So you have forgiven me?" he asked hopefully.

"I am here speaking civilly to you aren't I?" she responded. Éomer shrugged.

"Yes, but you may just being doing so out of respect in being in my home," he said. Lothíriel smiled.

"Then I say, yes, it is all forgiven, which you would have known by my dress color," she said pointedly.

"How can I look at anything else, my lady, when I am allowed the pleasure of looking at your lovely face," he replied but obliged by looking down at her dress, completely missing her blushed looks. Éomer inhaled deeply.

"It is the same color as the flowers I had given you," he breathed. Lothíriel nodded.

"Aye, which the petals I have pressed between leaves of books so it may be preserved long after it was destined too," she said. The two smiled at each other as they looked into each other eyes.

"Éomer, may _I_ have a chance at greeting the princess now?" Éowyn's loud voice suddenly broke into their thoughts. Lothíriel quickly moved away from Éomer and walked up to Éowyn.

"Greetings Éowyn, and how fare you?" she asked before the two ladies hugged each other.

"I am fine, in fact I am better," she said and quickly glanced at Faramir, who, of course, was gazing lovingly at her.

"I am sure you are," she wryly making it clear that she had seen the quick gaze. Éowyn laughed but said nothing as that moment, Imrahil was introducing Aearon to Éomer. During the time Éomer was preoccupied with Lothíriel, Aearon had been introduced to all and even had time to devote his service and the Swan Fleet to the rule of King Elessar.

"Éomer, the admiral of my Swan Fleet, Admiral Aearon, son of Cirion," said Imrahil. Aearon bowed to the Rohan king.

"Your majesty, as long as I am your blessed lands, I remain always your humble subject," he said then straightened, masking perfectly well the grimace. But Éomer had seen his fair share of first riders and cocked an eyebrow.

"You have telltale signs of muscle stiffness? Do you not ride often?" he asked. Behind Éomer, Amrothos inhaled sharply. Unlike the blunt ways of the Mark, in Dol Amroth a man does not unearth the shortcomings of another man, especially in public. Those issues had more often than not ended in a deadly fight. But, to all's relief and slight surprise, Aearon broke into a grin.

"Aye, not since I was a young boy if my memory serves me well," he answered. Éomer looked at him skeptically.

"You jest. How can a man not ride for such long years and still live?" he asked. Aearon chuckled but Faramir answered for him.

"Believe it, your majesty. Why, he has even forsaken good friends to be instead with his confounded waves. Aearon, you have not visited me in Ithilien for a long time," said Faramir accusingly. As Aearon had spent most times with the four siblings, he had, as well, formed close ties with Boromir and Faramir.

"And you have not visited my bedchamber in the equal amount of time, Faramir," was Aearon's answer, without missing a beat. Erchirion, Amrothos and even Elphir snorted in laughter while Imrahil shook his head in despair. Lothíriel was too busy laughing at Éowyn's horrified look, identical to her brother's. Only Aragorn and Arwen remained composed, but there was a tell tale sign of a smirk at the corner of the Gondor king's lips.

"Have I embarrassed you, friend?" Aearon asked, his smile growing. Faramir returned the smile unfazed.

"Not at all, friend. You may try again tomorrow," he answered smoothly. Finally comprehending the situation, Éowyn's stricken face smoothed out into an amused smile, but for good measure, she firmly placed a hand in Faramir's.

"Indeed I will," Aearon said with a wink to Éowyn who just rolled her eyes, it had became quite clear that this was a game the two had been playing since younger days and who was Éowyn to stop two boys from having their fun?

"Come, Aearon, you have not answered my question," Éomer said going back to the previous topic. It truly baffled him that someone… _anyone,_ does not ride a horse everyday of their lives.

"I am a man of the sea, my lord, where the sea is my mistress. She is a jealous lady and will share me naught, whether with a woman or horse," he answered whimsically.

"Spoken like a true sailor, Admiral," said Aragorn, who had moved to stand by Imrahil.

"Perhaps, but there is still time, Admiral Aearon, to get you on a horse," said Éowyn. Aearon's whimsy changed into a grimace.

"I do not think so my lady. There is certain delicateness pertaining to certain body parts that I think need the three days to heal before the return home," he said and his words were greeted with laughter by all.

"We shall see, Aearon, we may still make a horseman of you yet, for indeed you have the colorings of one," said Faramir.

"Let us leave that till tomorrow then. Now there is a feast waiting your presence and it grows colder as we linger here," said Éomer suddenly and beckoned his guest to enter Meduseld. He turned to offer his arm to Lothíriel only to see her already attached to Aearon's arm, looking very much like she belonged there. That did not suit the young king at all and suddenly felt a jolt of anger fly down his spine. But his thoughts were interrupted when a man, of his height but darker coloring, came to stand beside him. He turned and came upon a pair of stormy eyes.

"Prince Elphir," he said through gritted teeth. What did the pompous prince want from him now?

"Your majesty… I … this isn't easy… but I wish to ask for your forgiveness," said Elphir rushed. Éomer cocked an eyebrow.

"You are apologizing?" he asked, not really certain of the prince's integrity. But it was the flash of sincerity in his eyes that met with the blue penetrating gaze of the Rohan King.

"Yes, and I do so not because you are king of the land I am residing temporarily in but because I was wrong and let ill perceived thoughts control my action. I do hope you understand, as you are a brother yourself, that the feeling to protect your younger sister is so strong and primal, good judgment is sometimes neglected," he said. Éomer knew the truth of his words, and was never one to deny forgiveness when so earnestly asked. He placed a firm hand on Elphir's shoulder.

"Say no more of it. The deed is done, and whatever misunderstandings cleared. Let us be friends, now," he said smiling at the prince. Elphir returned it with his.

"Yes, thank you my lord," he said, truly relieved he had been forgiven. He wasn't a man or irrational thoughts but it had crossed his mind more than once that Éomer just might decided to throw him into the Meduseld dungeons the minute he steps foot into the palace.

"Come, the faster you eat, the sooner you can rest. There shall be much riding to do tomorrow as I am eager to show you my lands," said Éomer and the two began to walk after the others. Just as they were about to enter the dining hall, Éomer whispered to Elphir.

"Is it true that Aearon has not ridden since he was a young boy?" he asked. Elphir had to bite his inner cheek to prevent from laughing. The poor king looked truly bewildered. He nodded solemnly.

"Aye, tis true. It is only by luck that he can differentiate the horse's front from its rear," answered Elphir. Éomer just shook his head and he pushed the door open to join his friends and family, the next day's plans already floating happily in his mind.

* * *

By next morning, however, Éomer was more than ready to ship Aearon back to Dol Amroth if he had to nail the man's backside to his horse. In fact he was ready to send ALL of them packing. Except Lothíriel of course. In fact she was the cause of such thoughts anyway. He had woken up that morning, reveling in the fact that he actually had an excuse to escort the young princess WITHOUT arousing suspicion, only to find out that Aearon had beaten him to it. He entered the royal dining hall to see all seated waiting for him and she was _five_ people away from Éomer, next to HIM! The only satisfaction he had gotten throughout the entire meal was when he mentioned his purebred of horses and had gained a promise from the princess to show the workings of his stables. But of course, Aragorn had to put in a request that he shows ALL of them his stables and horses, and Éomer wasn't that desperate to be alone with her that he would deny the request of a powerful ally.

After breakfast, he had led them down by foot to the outskirt of the city to where the horses were lazily grazing; the only flat land found on the uneven plains of Edoras, separated from the bustle of the city by wooden fences that formed a circle around the horses, with two stables forming an extension from it. Only two routes led to grazing fields and that was from the main section of the city and the other led out to the back paths of Edoras.

So there he was in his beloved fields and stables with his beloved horse and he was surrounded with men while he, the _ignoramus_, was talking to her! What could they possibly be talking about, for Eorl's sake? The damn admiral didn't even like horses! Ignoring the admiration of his friends concerning his horses, _a sure sign that he was very much upset,_ he glared at the man who stood across from him with a disgusted look on his face as Lothíriel pointed to one horse then another, her face alight with joy. Thank heavens for the presence of Merriadoc Brandybuck who was almost well versed with the working of Edoras as Éomer was and this allowed Éomer to wallow in his rage as Merry entertained their guests.

"Éomer if you stare any harder at the poor man, he will surely combust into flames," a wry feminine voice spoke up beside him. She was not that involved with her betrothed to not notice her brother's growing anger. Éomer pulled back reluctantly and looked at his amused sister's eyes.

"He is a pain, I do not like him," he growled. Éowyn raised an eyebrow and feigned a puzzled look.

"Oh and why is that so? You have but known him for less than a day," she asked innocently, very much eager to know his answer.

"Because he does not like horses. Anybody who does not like horses is a pain. Look at him so, frowning at my best breeds. He should be locked in the dungeons for such treachery or better yet, exiled to never return to Edoras," the young king growled again. Éowyn had to bite her lips to stop from grinning. Horses indeed.

"Ï do not think Prince Imrahil would agree to such a thing, brother, and I think it would be beneficial to you to remain on his good side," said Éowyn with a straight faced. Éomer narrowed his eyes and turned back to the Dol Amroth Princess and her … _admiral_.

"Her father does not dictate Lothíriel's actions," he replied.

"Lothíriel? Brother I was talking about diplomatic relationships. What does the princess have to do with it?" she asked, successfully making herself sound surprised. Éomer just gave her a withering glare and turned away from her. Well, if he can't have the princess's attention, then he shall tend to her father instead. Perhaps he can manage to squeeze some information concerning this new and foreign enemy, and the best way to deal with it.

"Is he alright?" Faramir asked as he joined her, his eyes watching the retreating form of his soon to be brother in law. Éowyn let out an unladylike snort.

"He is so jealous that it consumes him. And he dares blame the innocent horses for his foolhardy," Éowyn spat, snuggling against Faramir. He wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her closer. He laughed gently into her hair.

"Aye, the poor innocent horses. A victim of a lovelorn man's jealous heart," he said, still laughing softly.

"Well, he wouldn't be in that position had he, from the beginning, let his heart guide his actions and not his masculine stupidity," she said again.

"But my lady, is it not crucial for a warrior to follow his head and not his heart in a time of battle?" he asked. Éowyn shrugged. He was right. From young, warriors were trained to think with their heads and maintain common sense on a battlefield and not let anger and retribution of the heart guide their movements.

"Perhaps, but this isn't a battle. She is a lady who is as smitten with Éomer as he is with her," she said adamantly.

"Ah, perhaps not to the lady who is wooed. To the men who is doing the wooing, courting is a deadly battle by itself," he answered. At that Éowyn raised her head to look at him.

"But you won me easily enough, my lord," she said almost coyly. He looked down at her and smiled, for a while lost in the sweet memories when she had returned his love.

"But that did not mean I did not spend nights awake wondering if and why the fair Lady Éowyn could ever love a common man as myself," he said humbly. Éowyn twirled in his arms and pressed her fingers into his cheeks, not so hard to hurt him.

"Listen to me, Faramir son of Denethor. You are by far the worthiest man for any woman to marry and every night I thank the powers that chose me to be your wife. So I do not want to hear anymore talk of you being a simple man. There is nothing simple about you, you are wonderfully special, is that understood?" she said, her eyes narrowed at him. He did not answer. Instead he bent down and kissed her and that was all the answer she needed.

A sudden commotion caused the two to pull apart and turn. Coming towards them, in full gallop was a mighty steed and atop it was what seemed to be a young lady. It seemed she had rode in from the back entrance of Edoras that was connected to the flat land where the horses were trained and reared. Just as she reached the doors of the stable, in one graceful and practice leap, she jumped off the horse to land elegantly on the ground. Handing her horse to a nearby stable boy the young lady walked towards the crowd oblivious to the stares of the visitors. In fact she had not noticed them as she was instead busy fiddling with her skirts. Only when she was at the feet of Éomer did she look up briefly.

"Greetings, Éomer King," she greeted him cheerfully, bobbing into a little curtsy.

"I have just come from the glade. It is beautiful and the trees are plush. Too plush though as I seem to have caught the hems of my skirt against a stray branch and ripped it beautifully. Would you be so kind as to tell me where my father is, so I may avoid him until I have changed. He would not appreciate my appearance. Oh by the way have your guests arrived?" she asked in one breath all the while checking her skirt to where the confounded tear would be.

"Your father is behind you, cringing in despair and if you would look up you will see that they have very much arrived and are around you, wondering what kind of animal you are to stray into my lands," Éomer answered wryly. At that Helena looked up so quickly, Éomer was surprised that her neck had not snapped at the impact. Casting a quick glance to the people staring at her she turned to her father with what she hoped was a dazzling smile. However, the dirt streaking across her cheek, tangled hair and torn skirt did much to hinder the effect.

"Father," she said. Helfast just shook his head and moved to stand by her.

"My lords and ladies, my only daughter, thank goodness, Lady Helena," he said. But despite her disorganized look, she still managed a perfect curtsy to the guests. The looking up, she gave a sly wink to a laughing Merry as the two had become acquainted in his past visit to Rohan and was one of the few who enjoyed her care-freeness.

"Welcome to Edoras, my lords and ladies. I am at your service if so you may need it," she said demurely, which really had no effect anymore after her somewhat _non-demure_ entrance. The men just looked at her with unhidden amusement and Lothíriel found herself wanting to know more of this wild thing that flew into Edoras without a care on her brow.

"If you would excuse her, Helena will retire for a wash and hopefully her second impression will be more everlasting than her first," said Helfast, wryly looking at his daughter. Helena grinned sheepishly at him and with another curtsy; she made her way back to Meduseld, of course not before giving Faramir an appraising look and an arched eyebrow look to Éowyn who was holding tight to his arm, most assuredly looking like the cat who got the cream. The company watched her for a while before returning to the more important issue at hand, horses.

After a while, Éomer took his guest on a tour of the main parts of the city which was lively with activity as the city prepared for the festivities that would come after the coronation. Lothíriel looked warily at the mountain high load of ale barrels, wondering which family member she would have to haul back to his room first completely passed out from the alcohol. One thing, it will not be her father, for despite his age, he could drink with the best of them. Perhaps Elphir, her eldest brother had never been the raunchiest of the four. She passed a glance to her eldest brother, the doubled back as she saw the strangest expression on his face. But the men had finally satisfied their fixation for the beautiful steeds and had begun to return to Meduseld as the sun was at high noon and lunch would be served, so Lothíriel did not think more of the matter. Instead as she fell into step with Éowyn, her mind went back to Lady Helena. For a moment Lothíriel wondered how it would be like to be a lady from Rohan, for it was obvious they were not enclosed within the oppressive four walls and instead allowed to ride free with the horses.

"What are you thinking, cousin?" Faramir's voice broke into her thoughts. She gave him a smile.

"I was just thinking of Lady Helena, she seems to be quite a free spirit," she replied. Éowyn laughed.

"Aye, a little too free if you ask her father. But he loves her dearly and would let her get away with many things," said Éowyn. Lothíriel nodded but didn't say anything.

"She is quite a character is she not?" Lothíriel asked after a while. Éowyn who was walking beside her laughed.

"Yes, she and I would were a terror when we were young. And to a point we still are," she said. Lothíriel laughed. Yes, she could easily imagine the two running through the streets like small whirlwinds, blowing away everything and everyone in their paths.

"So you and her have known each other for a long time, then?" she asked. Éowyn nodded.

"It must be nice to live like that. Dol Amroth court ladies can be immensely boring," said Lothíriel again, a little woebegone. Éowyn let out a snort at that and turned her incredulous eyes to the princess.

"Princess, I can assure you that no matter how different our cultures are, there will always be the similarities and boring court ladies are one of them. You just have not had the misfortune to meet any. The only exceptions I have seen are you, me and Helena. Queen Arwen does not count as she was probably born graceful and did not require to learn it as us humble mortals have too," she said and flashed a grin to Arwen, who had turned briefly from the front of the group at the mention of her name. Arwen winked back with a smile of her own then turned once again to her husband. Lothíriel smiled as well.

"So she is quite familiar with Éomer as well, I assume?" she asked again, glad that her voice remained calm and collected. And why shouldn't she, it wasn't as if she was jealous or anything. Éowyn gave Faramir a knowing look then turned to Lothíriel.

"Yes, but she isn't about to become queen of Rohan if that is what you are asking. That position is still wide open," she said and grinned broadly when Lothíriel turned a little pink. Lothíriel shot Éowyn a contemptuous look.

"No that was not what I wanted to know and it matters not if Éomer would choose Lady Helena as his queen," she retorted back. Éowyn wanted to answer but at that moment Aearon had jogged up to them and took Lothíriel's hand in his. It wasn't long before he and Éowyn were engaged in a debate why ships were much better than horses. A debate that lasted the entire length back to Meduseld. But Lothíriel was not listening. Instead she was thinking about what Éowyn had said. Why shouldn't Éomer and Helena wed? From what she had seen, Helena was quite familiar with Éomer, greeting him on a first name basis so it wouldn't such a surprise. And she was not jealous. Not one bit.

* * *

But that thought went away with the wind when she, escorted by Aearon, entered the dining hall to see Lady Helena already there beside her father, and Éomer's chief advisor Feälef. Gone was the haphazard looking girl and in its place a lady of elegance and politesse. To put it simply, she looked stunning. Like a statue Lothíriel had seen once carved by an elf craftsman. Greeting the lady, Lothíriel felt gangly and bulky, next to Helena's petite and delicate form. She subconsciously touched her hair and it felt rough to her touch, where no doubt Lady Helena's hair was like golden brown silk. Suddenly Lothíriel did not want to know the vixen anymore and practically seethed when Éomer extended his arm to escort her to their seat. And only when Aearon gave a soft cry did she realize she had dug her nails into his flesh. Flashing him an apologetic smile she took the seat next to him, the seat that she had sat with normalcy yesterday and this morn but right now was too far away from Éomer as that… golden haired beauty sat beside him. How improper, that a mere daughter of a captain should sit so high up the table when _she_, a princess should sit so far down.

"Sister, what is wrong? You are not eating and seem to be more preoccupied with the Lady Helena," whispered Amrothos from her other side. Lothíriel turned to him.

"How dare she position herself higher than a princess?" she hissed but made sure to keep her voice low. Amrothos gave her a surprised look. It was not like Lothíriel to be so petty. But he soon saw the cause of her anger as he watched Éomer lean towards Helena and said something that made her laugh.

"You are angry that she is higher up the table or next to Éomer?" he asked, raising an eyebrow. Lothíriel's eyes widen at that.

"I do not care of that, I care more that she has disregarded protocol!" Lothíriel defended herself.

"Riel, the rules and bylaws of social etiquette are different here, she may actually deserve to be there," he said gently. Lothíriel did not say anything realizing the truth of his words. She turned back to the head of the table and saw that Éomer was now talking to Aragorn and Helena was entertaining Master Merriadoc. There didn't seem to be any hint of romance between them, just simple camaraderie. Riel, _get a grip of yourself. Just friends remember, _said her voice of reason causing her to sigh outwardly.

"Princess, are you okay?" Aearon asked, looking at her with concern. Lothíriel nodded.

"It is just the heat. I think it needs getting used to, but I can feel my skin tingling a little," she said. Aearon nodded.

"I agree. After three weeks here, and you too shall be as burnt as me. Why we shall have to re-dub you, the Black Swan Princess of Dol Amroth, where her ebony beauty will shame even the darkest of nights," he said dramatically. Lothíriel couldn't help laugh at that and immediately felt better. Why should she despair at not being a Lady Helena when she had Aearon to entertain her?

Gone unnoticed to the two of them, glaring over the rim of his wine goblet, was a pair of steel blue eyes belonging to the young king, in his mind several images of how he would satisfyingly extricate a certain admiral from his manhood, the next image bloodier than the previous.

End of Chapter 8

(6,351 words)


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter Nine

Éomer couldn't remember when he had been this nervous. He couldn't remember **IF** he had _ever_ been this nervous. Sure, he's had the random butterflies in his stomach just as he was about to dive head first into a band of hungry and angry orcs, but this was completely different. Orcs he knew he could handle, but running an entire country? Yes, he has been said to be a good and just leader to his eored, but that wasn't the same as settling disputes among clan leaders and entire population of people. Heck, he even found it difficult to not drop his sword upon feuding men and now he was to handle matters in a **diplomatic** way? Why not just feed him straight to a pack of wargs. He would welcome that better than he did this day.

"Éomer, what on earth is wrong with you?" Imrahil snapped from somewhere in his room. His coronation was to begin any minute and his friends had congregated in his room to help and lend moral support. Of course he was too proud to admit it and brushed off their effort with calm tolerance, but inside, he found their presence comforting. And now Imrahil was lounging in one of his lush armchairs, sipping his best wine, wearing the most annoyed face to be seen on a man, and Éomer couldn't help grin. He didn't realize his pacing was as irritating to his comrades as it was pacifying him. Aragorn was sitting adjacent to Imrahil in an identical armchair, Merry was polishing a non-existent speck on his armor and Faramir was by the window, looking out towards the city. Faintly, the sounds of people celebrating could be heard.

"Nothing is wrong with me, old friend. Just clearing my head, a little jittery in the stomach," he answered. Imrahil snorted.

"The look you wear now is no different than what King Elessar wore on his wedding day. You have yet to meet that milestone, friend, so what you feel now is but trifle," said Imrahil and the other three men laughed in response. Éomer just gave him a withering look.

"I would welcome marriage than this day. A wife I can handle but an entire city? I shudder to think of it," he answered, the nervousness returning and he resumed his pacing. Why was it taking so long? When will it begin? When will it **_end_**? Why hasn't Feälef or Helfast come to get him yet?

"You shall do well, my lord. My hobbit senses tell me that you shall be the best king yet to rule Rohan," consoled Merry. Éomer gave his friend a grateful smile. He didn't believe Merry's words but he was comforted nonetheless.

Faramir who had been absorbed with the outside world turned to look at Éomer, his face breaking out into a mischievous grin.

"That cannot be disagreed with, Master Merriadoc, but Éomer, do not be quick to say such words. Well, I have not seen her in a while but I doubt much has change," he said and left his words hanging until Éomer growled at him to explain his words. Faramir laughed again.

"Only that, I think that you would soon welcome the tediousness of diplomatic matters than handle Lothíriel when she is in one of her moods," was his answer and Aragorn and Merry let out a huge laugh. Imrahil did not say anything but couldn't help smile a little especially when Éomer turned bright red. The Rohan king tried to defend himself but his stuttering caused even more laughter from Aragorn that in the end he resorted to accosting the Gondor king and his steward with his pillows instead. The two men caught the pillows and threw it back to the king, still laughing.

However, Éomer just caught it absentmindedly as Faramir's words suddenly reminded him of something. Biting his lips he paced a little bit more before turning to the three. He was silent as he contemplated his words, ignoring the decreasing laughter that was soon replaced with inquisitive looks. Aragorn and Faramir exchanged confused looks then turned to Imrahil and Merry. But the Dol Amroth prince just shrugged his shoulders, his actions mirrored by the hobbit. He did not know either. Finally, Éomer lost his contemplative look and cleared his throat, turning to the men, Imrahil in particular.

"Imrahil, I was just wondering…"

* * *

Never had the Dol Amroth princess heard such noise. Pleasant noises, but noise all the same. Yes, the city of Dol Amroth was busy with activity and these days with celebrations and joyous festivities, so it was hardly a sleepy town. But even when the entire populations were outside, never had the city been so… loud. She wasn't sure to cover hear ears or join them. From where she was sitting, under a man made canopy at the foot of Meduseld, and the remaining non royalty/nobility of Edoras a step bellow them, shielding their red faces from the fierce rays of the sun with whatever they could use, Lothíriel could not differentiate a man's voice from a woman's or a child. They were all meshed up together in one uniform sound. And she loved it.

Every decibel, every syllable uttered enraptured her. Maybe it was the foreignness of the language that enthralled her, or perhaps the intensity or their sorrow and joy that captured her attention. Whatever it was left her spellbound. Even though she was sitting among the noblewomen of Rohan (she had finally been introduced to them, and found them as boring as Éowyn had said), and above her head, Lady Helena, Queen Arwen and Lady Éowyn were conversing in the common tongue, not a word did she hear.

"Princess, are you well? Or is the heat too much?" Lady Helena's voice brought her back to the present. Lothíriel turned to the lady and smiled (Lothíriel had decided sometime in the night that it would benefit her to befriend the Chief of Marshal's daughter, than to make her an enemy).

"No, I am fine. I am simply caught up in the festive mood. It is so wonderful to have a reason to celebrate again," she said the last bit wistfully and turned back to the happy Rohirrims, only in her mind she was by the sea again, watching little children with dark hair laughing as they try and "catch" a wave, a family member nearby. Nights had been filled with music dancing as far as the stretch of beach went. A sudden longing for her city washed over her, and her light mood dampened a little. She felt Éowyn place a hand on hers.

"Time shall fly quickly, and soon you shall be home," she said gently. Lothíriel just gave her a smile.

"Yes, Edoras is beautiful, but home is where the heart is," said Queen Arwen and she too longed for her White City.

"It's just a little longing, Éowyn, Queen Arwen, but as long as I am here I shall make best of my time," she answered and the two ladies shared a laugh. Then from her other side, Lady Helena joined in.

"No doubt, your highness that your brothers are enjoying their stay," she said and Lothíriel looked to the canopy opposite the ladies, separated by a narrow carpet of red color that began form a hidden corner all the way up the steps of Meduseld and into it. Amrothos was in a heated discussion with Gimli watched by an amused looking Legolas (both who had arrived at Edoras early that morning along with the other three hobbits), Erchirion was sending a few ladies into fits of giggles and blushes with his winks and inviting smiles, Elphir was talking to Aearon, and the hobbits were busy cleaning out the buffet table. In each of their hands was a huge mug of ale. No fancy smancy wine for those fine warriors, only Rohan's best.

"Aye, although I'd say it was the ale that really has their attention," said Éowyn dryly.

"Your brew must be very strong if dear Elphir could be made to relax," Lothíriel replied and couldn't help laugh as she continued looking at her eldest brother, sprawled across the chair, not a single line of worry on his handsome face. And that itself showed the magic of Rohan ale as Amrothos has sworn many a times that Elphir was born worried. Lady Helena followed her gaze.

"Yes, I think this is the first time since your highness's arrival that I have seen Prince Elphir at ease. Is he always uptight?" asked Helena, in a blunt manner possible only to a Rohirrim.

"Yes, he is. It is not very often when he is without worry," Lothíriel replied, becoming a little somber as she thought of the responsibilities her eldest brother had been saddled with. During the dark times, her brothers had gone separate ways and guarded different parts of Dol Amroth and Gondor. The idea behind this was to ensure that Dol Amroth was never without an heir, for it was unlikely that three areas would be attacked at once and all three princes perishing together. But Imrahil was ever cautious and as he was heir, Elphir would only be assigned to areas that were near to the city where the full regiment was positioned in case of an attack, so reinforcements could be given almost immediately.

So since Elphir had first dips on backup, he had spent most of those nights worrying more about his brothers and that he would not be there to protect them had something bad were to happen. Reunions had always been joyous in the palace by the sea and never, in all the years that Lothíriel could remember, had Elphir ever shied from showing his family how he really felt. And that usually meant some bone crushing hugs to either his father, brothers or sister. This trait made him even more endearing to the people of their fair city.

"I realized he is not yet with wife, but does some fair maiden stand wait for him?" she asked. Lothíriel and Éowyn exchanged looks.

"Are you interested?" Éowyn asked as both ladies looked at her. Even Arwen was interested. Helena looked at them a little startled but shook her head.

"No, I was just thinking that if he did perhaps have a lady waiting for him, he wouldn't be so uptight. Do you suppose I should extend our hospitality to him and "help" him unwind?" she asked and raised an eyebrow, the meaning in her words as clear as the smirk on her face. Lothíriel was stunned and could only look at her although Éowyn, quite used to Helena's shocking personality, just rolled her eyes and shared an amused smile with Arwen. But Lothíriel was already entertaining thoughts of Lady Helena as her sister in law. The idea didn't seem bad at all, especially if it would get the young lady away from Edoras! Eh, where did that come from? The sudden vehemence of her last chain of thoughts startled her. But she wasn't able to ponder long as Helena began to laugh at Lothíriel's shocked face. She grasped the princess's hand in hers.

"Do not look so shocked, as I was only jesting. I promise I shall not compromise your brother's virtue," she said laughingly, and Lothíriel couldn't help but laugh as well. All four of them turned to the men who had turned to look at them, somewhat attracted to their laughter. The young ladies just smiled and waved at them, and Aearon replied with a salute of his glass.

"Princess, stop me if I am prying, but what of you and Admiral Aearon? Are you his lady?" Helena asked and immediately Éowyn perked in her direction. Although Helena had agreed to help Éowyn with her 'scheme', doubts and second thoughts began to take shape when she saw how close Lothíriel and Aearon were. Helena had told Éowyn previously that if princess Lothíriel and Admiral Aearon harbored even the slightest mutual feeling for each other then she will not assist, but agreed that if it was neither public or if either did not reciprocate then the princess was still an open option for Éomer to wed. So basically, Lothíriel's answer to Helena's question would determine Éowyn's final act.

"Nay, he is just a childhood friend. We have spent many years growing up together that is all," she answered firmly. Éowyn and Helena exchanged looks, each thinking the same thing. If Elphir had allowed the admiral to befriend her, he may encourage a union between them as well.

"Are there any thoughts of marriage, your highness?" Helena asked again, trying hard to not sound too interested. Éowyn was trying hard to ignore Arwen's piercing look. Lothíriel blinked at her. The thought never crossed her mind. But when she flicked a gaze towards the laughing admiral, she began to think _what if?_ It came too easily into her head; herself with a little boy, probably burnt as his father, running and laughing across the shore or perhaps at the stern of his father's beloved ship, his father positioned protectively behind him, an arm around her… Lothíriel shook the images out of her head. What was wrong with her? Why was she thinking of marriage all of a sudden? First to Boromir, then Éomer and now Aearon. Her mother would turn in her grave if she knew of her daughter's wanton thoughts.

"We are only friends, m'lady, the topic has never and will never be brought up between us," she answered with honesty but her tone indicating that the subject was close. However Éowyn and Helena had seen the look Lothíriel wore when looking at Aearon and knew that this was just the beginning. The two ladies would have to work hard to make Éomer push such thoughts of Aearon out of her head and push himself instead into its place, all the while, not trying to appear like they were involved in the scheme. Such blatant intrusion on their part would only push the young king and the princess further apart. All at once in Éowyn's mind, three weeks was just too little time.

But any thoughts of matchmaking was gone for at that moment the other missing guests joined them and a sudden blast of fanfare swept over them, effectively quieting the crowd. One by one, the people in attendance stood and waited. They didn't have to wait long as from where the red carpet bends into hiding emerged Merry, wearing the official regalia of Edoras. His head was solemn and proud, making him as tall as any man present. Held proudly in his arms was a cushion of silk green with gold trimmings and on top of the cushion was a set of polished armor, a sword and a crown of gold. If he felt the heaviness, his stoic face hid it well. Then behind him was the Chief Marshal, Second and Third Marshal, each dressed in their official suit and armor, polished till it shone in unequal brightness. Behind the three men was Éomer. Lothíriel was a little surprised to see him dressed casually… and incomplete.

He was naturally wearing tunic and pants of silk material and on his feet, boots of the best animal hide, but neither of the three had any intricate designing on it. Just plain and simple. His beard had been trimmed to reveal his strong jaw and full lips and his gold hair tied back in a ponytail. But on top his tunic was a vest that was usually worn underneath the armor. Lothíriel concluded that this would be different than the coronation process in Gondor and felt excited for it to begin. She also concluded that in no way did his simple dressings do anything to dim the ambiance radiating around him. She could almost see the power and the king that he would become shinning out from his very body and engulfing them in its influence. It did nothing to mar his handsomeness either, judging from how the ladies were swooning as he passed by. In fact one lady had to be supported by another as her knees were too weak. Lothíriel and Éowyn exchanged amused looks.

Finally Éomer reached the base of the steps that would lead up to Meduseld. There at the very last step was Feälef and Merry, who still held the armor and sword. Éomer knelt before Feälef. In a loud voice Feälef began to recite in Rohirrim.

_You have been chosen by kings of past to lead us, Éomer son of Eomund_, Éowyn translated into her ear, as Helena did the same to Arwen.

_Will you bind your life to Rohan and the people that walk its land?_

_I will_

_Will you forfeit your life to the enemy of the Mark if so needed?_

_I will_

_Will you honor your oath to your people?_

_By all that is willing and Eorl as my witness, I will_

_Will you protect us from harm, will you protect us from fear, will you protect us from pain,_

_As long as there is breath in me, I will_

_Who do your loyalties belong too?_

_I belong to the Mark and to the people who swear by her_

_How do you see yourself, Éomer son of Eomund?_

_I am the King of the Mark, where my life and soul belongs to her and where I will defend her from her enemies, where I will rule her people in fairness and justice,_

_Raise Éomer King, take thy new name, _Eadig_, and receive thy blessings; _Éomer rose to his feet and looks at Feälef

_This armor to protect as you ride out to defend; _Feälef took the body armor from Merry and with Helfast's assistance, strapped it onto him,

_This sword to slay those who would harm thee and prevent thy duties to The Mark; _hethen took the sword, handed it Éomer, who placed a kiss onto its blade before sheathing it.

_Take this mantle, a token of thy people's love; _he draped a green mantle across Éomer's shoulder, which Éowyn explained was made by the seamstresses of Edoras, a gift from the people to their king.

_And take this crown, a symbol of thy rule and leadership, and may Eorl bless thee with wisdom, _he said and placed the gold crown on to Éomer's head. He then stepped down from the stairs as Éomer moved up one step and Feälef knelt before the new king and everybody followed suit; the men kneeling, the ladies in a curtsy. In full armor, he did not seem plain anymore to the princess's eyes.

_Hail, Éomer Eadig, Eighteenth King of Rohan and first of the third lines of kings, whom we lay our allegiance too and to whom we vow to follow and support, I, on behalf of the people of Riddermark acknowledge thee, O Éomer King._

_I accept thy words, Feälef, who represent my people. Take thy place by me, loyal friend. _Feälef rose and went to stand on Éomer's left.

Then from the corner of her eyes, Lothíriel saw Éowyn step away from them and onto the red carpet where she curtsied before walking up to Éomer. Once she was there, she got onto her knees and held up a sword with both hands, that Lothíriel hadn't noticed she had been holding. Head bent low, she spoke.

_I, Éowyn daughter of Eomund, give you my sword, my king, to wield as you see fit, to cast away if needed, my loyalty to thy crown as long as I walk on thy land, Éomer King, _this time Helena translating to both ladies.

Éomer took her sword and swung it above her head. The blade made clean slices through the air, and then Éomer placed it back onto Éowyn's open palms.

_Take back thy sword, Lady Éowyn, sister to me, and may you use it to fight alongside me if so required. Arise, fair sister and take thy rightful place beside me, _Éomer responded and helped his sister back to her feet. He then leaned forward and placed a soft kiss onto her cheeks, not customary but it brought a smile to those around them to see the blatant sibling love between the two. Éowyn took her place by his right side on the steps, although slightly behind. Then came Merry, Helfast and the other two Marshal of the Mark and they recited their oaths to him. His reply was similar to his reply to his sister and they too took their places behind him. Éomer was about to speak when suddenly movements from one of the canopy stopped him.

Emerging from it was Aragorn, Faramir, Imrahil, Legolas, Gimli and the three hobbits. They walked towards Éomer and once Aragorn was only several feet away, in unison they got to their knees. Firstly let it be explained that as the King of another realm, Aragorn and those under him were not obliged to pay homage to kings of other cities. So for Aragorn, King Elessar of Gondor and Arnor, to kneel by the feet of the Rohan king was a great tribute and honor to the ruling liege. And for him to be accompanied by other beings of Middle Earth in paying their respects made it a bigger honor. Big enough to render the articulate king speechless.

"Éomer King of the Mark, we, the free people of Middle Earth, acknowledge thy rule of Rohan and with our swords," they all pull out their swords, and axe (for Gimli), and place it at their feet, "pledge our armed forces and service if thy so as needs it, so says I, King Elessar of the Reunified lands, and those who rule under me," said Aragorn.

"And I Prince Legolas of Greenwood the Great, second the words of King Elessar," said Legolas.

"And I, Gimli son of Gloin of the Glittering Caves," repeat Gimli.

"And we, Frodo Baggins, Samwise Gamgee and Peregrine Took, of the Shire," chime in the hobbits in unison.

Éomer was so touched by their words that it took him a while to respond.

"Rise, my friends and let it be known that your words are received with many thanks and gratitude. As long as I, Éomer, am king of this land, so be it that all of you and your kin will always be seen as friends of the Mark," he said loudly for all to hear. He bent down and picked up Aragorn's sword, kissed it then returned it to the Gondor king. Then he unsheathed his sword, cast it up into the descending sun's rays then laid the tip of the blade upon the ground at their feet, both his hand still on the hilt, and recited.

**"Hear now all people who bow not to the Shadow in the east, I vow in the name of Eorl the Young and in mine, Éomer Eadig, on behalf of the Eorlings of the North that between us and the Great People of the West there shall be friendship for ever, their enemies shall be our enemies, their needs shall be our needs. And whatsoever evil, or threat or assault, may come upon them we will aid them to the utmost of our strength**," he spoke in a great voice. Aragorn copied Éomer's previous actions with his own sword and replied to his words.

**"This oath shall stand in memory of the glory of the Land of the Star, and of the faith of Elendil the Faithful, in the keeping of those who sit upon the thrones of the West and the North and who is above all thrones, for ever,"** said Aragorn in a voice of equal greatness. Such oath had not been heard since the time of Eorl and Cirion, in the founding of Rohan, and now the Oath of Eorl was reborn between the two kings.

All that heard the oath were in awe of the two kings, for at that moment, dusk had fallen and as the sun went down behind the Golden Hall, its last rays cast a fiery glow upon Éomer's armor and Aragorn's white robes that their attire were said to be on fire, sealing the words they had just spoken. The two men embraced and the city erupted in cheers. Even Lothíriel found herself clapping with uninhibited ardor. Only Queen Arwen seemed composed, but there was happiness and proudness in her eyes. And it could only be etiquette and protocol that was holding Éowyn back from jumping into Faramir's arms, appreciative of his accolade to her brother. Their hands still clasped around each other, Éomer and Aragorn led their friends and family into the halls of Meduseld, where they shall rest while waiting for the summon that will lead them back outside and into the heart of the celebrations.

* * *

That night Edoras shone like a brilliant star against the night sky. And within the walls of the city, in the center of the green field, underneath a huge tent, a celebration like no other was being held to welcome the crowning of their new king. On the high table, looking down towards his people as they ate and laughed, was the king himself, his radiance and supremacy causing him to stand out amongst the crowd. He had replaced his armor, to don instead a silk shirt of green and a vest of similar color, decorated with gold thread embroidery. He wore tight leggings, also in customary green and boots of black hide. His hair was neatly arranged in a neat ponytail and atop his gold tresses was a circlet of silver trimmed with tiny emeralds. Never a man to put his looks over his battle abilities, Éomer had to admit to himself, he looked very handsome, and he had the lusty and starry eyed looks of nearly all the ladies to prove it. _Nearly all_ because the one that would have really mattered to him was engaged in a conversation with her brother and an annoying sea admiral at the table adjacent to his.

Lothíriel could barely hear what her brother and Aearon was saying over the pounding of her heart. It had not stopped pounding since she fist laid eyes on Éomer after the coronation. How could it be possible that such a man could be so good looking? Why, he must be a god to be blessed with such beauty. And his clothes. Her mouth became dry as she thought of his muscular chest stretching within the thin fabric to give the seer a perfect view of the masculine contours, narrowing down to a slim waist and washboard stomach. And his breeches did nothing to hide how his legs muscles flexed when he walked and it took all her willpower and self pinches to stop her from gazing at the tightness of his derrière. She quickly reached for her wine goblet to hide the blush creeping up her face and neck as she suddenly wondered how it would feel to touch his skin… intimately. Thank heavens, only she could hear her thoughts for her father would be scandalized if he knew her mind.

Éomer nodded absently at what Aragorn was saying. He really was trying to listen to his friend… it was just that a little beyond Aragorn's right shoulder, in direct line of his vision was Lothíriel, and try as he might, he couldn't drag his eyes away from her. So hoping that he would not arise any suspicion from his friend, he kept on nodding every once in a while.

"So you agree that it is true then?" Aragorn's words broke into his thoughts and the Rohirrim focused back on the Gondorian. To his left, Imrahil looked at him with a raised eyebrow. Éomer blinked and tried in vain to recollect what they were talking about. There had been some talk about trading horses for grain and wheat. Taking a chance he nodded. Aragorn nodded slowly, and Imrahil shook his head with a sigh. That immediately made Éomer wary. What _had_ he agreed to?

"Tis a shame to your people and your land, but I suppose it is accurate if you have said so," said Aragorn again, and then patted Éomer on the shoulder sympathetically.

"It is big of you to admit it, though" he added again. Éomer's eyes widen. What shame?

"Wait a moment, what had I agreed to?" he asked not caring anymore that his lack of concentration would be known. Had he just been bested by a man of Gondor? And _how_ had he been bested?

"Whatever are you talking about, old friend? Agree to what?" Aragorn asked, his features confused as if Éomer had said something that made no sense.

"You just said I had agreed to something, what was it?" he asked his tone taking a desperate turn. Aragorn narrowed his eyes at Éomer.

"Has being hit numerous times on the head finally made your mind dull? Your words do not make sense. What did you agree too?" he asked again. Éomer's eyes widen. Was he losing his mind?

"I don't know, I was agreeing to what you said," he responded.

"You don't know what you were agreeing too? Friend, that wasn't very smart," Aragorn said his eyes wide in surprise. Éomer just gaped at him. Aragorn wanted to say more, but a delicate arm emerged from behind him and gently pressed two fingers against his lips.

"Enough, my love, do not tease our dear king," said Arwen, trying to sound reprimanding but there was a twinkle in her eye. Éomer let out a sigh of relief.

"So you were just baiting me," he said and Aragorn's grin grew bigger.

"Yes, and enjoying every moment of it," was the reply. Éomer wanted to say something scathing but he saw the humor in it and couldn't help laugh.

"That will teach me to listen to your words in the future counsel we shall have together. I may end up giving you half my kingdom and not realize it," he said and Aragorn laughed along with him. Then his laughter ceased to be replaced with a mischievous grin.

"I believe Éomer," he said loudly, "that your fantastic ale has begun to take effect on me for which a remedy must be needed."

"A remedy? And what would that be, O great healer?" Éomer asked, a mixture of wry and mockery. He knew what Aragorn was about to say, and felt his palm begin to perspire.

"Why dancing, of course, what else!" cried Aragorn and gave Éomer a hard thump on the back. Now, sweat had begun to prick his hairline as well, and with Imrahil looking at him, the butterflies in his stomach returned. He hesitated, and Aragorn, seeing this, motioned to Feälef, who was hovering nearby.

"My good man, your king wishes that the floor is cleared and your talented minstrels ready for some dancing, is that not so Éomer?" said Aragorn looking at the flustered king. Éomer gave a curt nod to Feälef and an eye blink later, the floor was cleared and the musicians waiting for their king to descend to the floor. In fact a sudden silence had fallen over the guest and it was like all had ceased to breathe.

Lothíriel watched the rapid change with surprise.

"What is happening?" she whispered to Aearon. The young admiral shook his head and he too was slightly confused. Then from his other side, Helena whispered.

"It is customary that the king have the first dance with the lady of his choosing. It is a great honor to the lady and her family as it more often than not results between a union between the king and his chosen lady," she whispered, and then pointed to a small group of women at the base of their table.

Lothíriel followed her gaze and nearly laughed. It was a group of six pretty young ladies, modeling the latest fashion of clothing's, color and hair styles and each of them wearing an expression of hope, anxiety and fear. To Lothíriel, they looked like fishes out of water with their wide eyes and gaping mouth. She silently wondered which of them Éomer would pick.

But then, a mop of brown hair blocked her view and she realized that he may not pick any of the six ladies. A scraping of chair legs against wooden flooring caused her to turn to where the king in thought was sitting… or standing as it would be. From the corner of her eyes she saw him make his way to her side of the tables and involuntarily she held her breath. But she released it when she remembered that lady Helena was sitting two seats away from her.

_They would make a wonderful pair, he so strong and tall, she petite and beautiful. No doubt their children will be striking and gold, naturally, and Captain Helfast would be terribly proud. And wasn't Éomer's father once the Chief of Marshal, so it is befitting that Éomer would marry the daughter of a…… ah!_

Lothíriel looked stupidly at the hand that was hovering near her head, its palms upwards in an inviting gesture. Her eyes then traveled to look into the blue eyed owner, who was smiling down at her, somewhat nervous.

"Princess, will you dance with me?" his deep voice said but it was a few seconds before she could comprehend his words. Carefully she placed her hand into his, and nodded.

"It would be an honor, your majesty," she barely recognized her calm voice, a complete contrast to the raging storm within her.

As she followed him onto the makeshift dance floor, her head bent as she walked beside him, Lothíriel could feel the stares boring into her back like daggers. She was also very much aware of the death looks from the Gawking Six and made a quick prayer that she would leave the dance floor in one piece. But when Éomer placed his one arm around her waist and clasped his other hand around hers, pulling her close that her body was molded into his, any thought of those around her melted as did her surroundings. Looking into his eyes, she could see no one but him and that his arms were around her. And within her, she could feel the pleasant stirring of heat radiating from the middle of her body, becoming larger and larger that it engulfed her entire self, making her aware of every inch of her that was pressed against him.

Éomer didn't realize the mistake he had done until he was on the dance floor with her body pressed closely against his. And the way she was looking at him made him feel he could lift a mountain and drain a sea. How could something so near be so far away from his grasp? He wanted to close his eyes and savor the feeling of her body molding perfectly to his. A sudden stirring caused him to quickly withdraw his thoughts and think of neutral things. They were too close for her to not feel… him and the last thing he wanted to do was insult her delicate sensitivity.

But it was so hard to stop himself from not feeling. Never had he wanted such a woman in his life, in his bed like he did her. When he looked into her ocean blue eyes, he could see his entire future in it. Never would his life be boring if she were in it. Damn protocol to hell and back. If it weren't for his stupid sense of duty to his countrymen he would have this delectable raven haired angel in his arms and perhaps already with his child. _Whoa, slow down… this is dangerous grounds, Éomer,_ his inner self warned. Mentally he gave himself a shake and instead gazed into her eyes, emptying his mind to drown into their depths.

From the high table, Éowyn moved to lean against Faramir's shoulder. In response she felt him wrap his arms around her knowing that as long as Éomer was distracted by Lothíriel, he has nothing to fear. He felt Éowyn sigh against him.

"Do you think we can have a double wedding?" she asked her voice complacent. What she had originally thought would be three weeks of conniving and scheming seems to have become a one night event, where she didn't even have to strain a brain cell cooking up manipulative scenarios.

"If you mean your brother and my cousin, then we may never get married," Faramir replied. Éowyn sat up and looked at him, her eyes wide.

"What do you mean?" she asked. Faramir cringed at the thought of dashing her hopes of Lothíriel and Éomer getting married but she had to know.

"This morn, just before his crowning, Éomer asked permission from my uncle to engage Lothíriel for a first dance," he said.

"That is good is it not?" Éowyn interrupted.

"Perhaps, only Éomer made it clear that he is doing so because she is a guest princess. He is extending courtesy, as he says it," replied Faramir. Éowyn put on such a disappointed look that Faramir couldn't help but laugh and pull her back into his arms and tried to elevate her despair.

"But from what is going on the dance floor, you may still have your wish," he added. Éowyn looked to her brother and friend and cheered up. Faramir was right. At the rate they were staring hungrily into each other's eyes, marriage was inevitable.

And, in the eyes of the Prince of Dol Amroth, who sat glaring at Éomer (despite giving permission), if they do not marry for mutual feelings then, it will be at the end of Imrahil's sword, for any man looking at his daughter like that must wed her to save her honor.

Erchirion and Amrothos had their hands full of trying to stop a despondent Elphir from drinking himself senseless to really have an opinion of their sister and Éomer.

Aragorn, his arms around his wife, gave a sympathetic chuckle.

"He is hooked, yet he knows it not. I pity him when he does realize it," he whispered into Arwen's ears and the four hobbits exchanged looks as if saying _poor Éomer_. What the Master Dwarf said to the Elf Prince would probably not be proper to be repeated in decent company.

However, on the dance floor, the subject of their friends pondering yet unaware of it, Éomer and Lothíriel continued swaying to the gentle music, not once breaking eye contact. Their heads were so near each other that he could see those lips, so lush, so succulent, calling him to touch it with his own. He watched her lips part and seeing the pink moist tip against her lips made his knees weak. Memories of their first kiss under the moonlight so many days ago came flooding in, and he knew by the pink tinges on her cheeks, she remembered it as well.

His eyes hypnotized her, like he was seeing pass her into her soul, and he was pulling her closer towards him. She didn't feel any movement but suddenly she could make out the individual strands of his thick lashes. His smell, a mixture of sweet hay and maleness drifted into her nostrils, the kind of smell that made her know he was all male and she was all female.

But at that moment, a loud sound in the form of someone clearing his throat broke the spell that bound the two. Lothíriel blinked and to her embarrassment she realized she was on her toes and judging from the angle of his head, Éomer was about to kiss her. _And_ that the music had long ended.

Quickly they released each other, neither of them looking at each other, or anyone else for that matter. Tucking her arm into his, Éomer turned to his guest and with great flourish he invited them to dance, indicating to the band to begin playing again. However no one stirred from their seats, as they were still in wonder of what they had seen transpire between their king and the Princess Lothíriel, who was still attached to his arm, though head low. Éomer gave his sister and a pleading look and she nodded understanding his situation. So immediately she stood up.

"Come my lords and ladies, the night is still young so let us dance and be merry," she said, a huge smile on her face. Then she held her hand out to Faramir and the two headed down to the dance floor, followed closely by Aragorn and Arwen. Éomer though escorted Lothíriel back to her seat and after thanking her for the dance, went to move to the furthest side of the field, far, far away from her and her glaring father. That was the first and last time he asked her for a dance that night.

But that was enough for Lothíriel as she stood gazing into the night skies from the bedchambers assigned to her. The celebration had just about ended but still there was much activity happening below her window and with the alertness of her mind, Lothíriel was not inclined to sleep just as yet. Also, she wanted to dream a little bit longer about her dance with Éomer, engrave the images deeper into her mind so when ever she wishes she can conjure it back just as clearly. She had danced with many men after him but neither of them left much of an imprint on her body as his touch did. And that she would savor for many years to come.

A soft knock on her door caused her to pull away from the window.

"Come in," she said, wondering who it could be. The door opened a jar and her father's head popped in.

"Am I disturbing, swan?" he asked. Lothíriel smiled and shook her head, beckoning him to come in. Imrahil entered and sat on her bed, where she joined him. Sighing contentedly, she wrapped her arms around her father and leaned against his shoulder.

"Did you enjoy yourself?" he asked needlessly. Lothíriel's grin grew broader as she looked up at him.

"Oh yes, father. I did very much, especially the dancing. How about you father?" she asked. Imrahil shrugged his shoulders.

"It was alright, but I was extremely disappointed Éomer didn't ask me to dance as well, you two seemed to be having much fun," he said with a little sadness. Lothíriel's eyes widened then realized her father was teasing her.

"Father! Don't tease me so! He was just being friendly," she cried out pulling away from Imrahil. Her father laughed and pulled her back to him.

"Forgive me, I couldn't help it," he said then his face turned serious.

"However, I do not think… well… from what I see… I think he likes you, daughter… a lot," Imrahil said, stressing on the last bit.

"And honestly, I don't think it's a good idea for you to stay here without me or your brothers to supervise you… or him," he continued. Lothíriel's eyes widen in despair.

"Father, please let me stay! I made a promise to Éowyn; please do not ask me to take it back. I will be good, I promise, and father, you know that Éomer would never do anything to dishonor our family or his," she pleaded to him. Imrahil inhaled deeply. It had seemed so easy when he thought of it earlier on, but now faced with his daughter, he couldn't bring himself to deny her anything. And she was right, Éomer was an honorable man. He would not jeopardize Lothíriel's virtue, but lay down his sword to defend it.

"I suppose you are right, and you do want to stay don't you?" he asked her. Lothíriel nodded.

"Yes, people here are so free spirited and happy, and let me just be a little like them before I have to return being a princess again," she said and Imrahil couldn't help laugh. She made it sound like being a princess was a fate worst than death.

"Alright, you may stay for the three weeks agreed, but if I hear even the slightest inappropriate behavior from either one of you, I will personally heave you home, is that understood?" he said sternly. Lothíriel nodded and hugged him.

"Yes, father. You can trust us, we'll be very good," she said happily. Imrahil tightened his arms around his daughter. It wasn't that he didn't trust them; it's just that Éomer was so much a man and his daughter… well; she wasn't a little girl anymore. He didn't want her to loose her heart to a man that may end up breaking it. Another knocking was heard on the door and in stepped Elphir. He grinned at them then unsteadily walked towards them, tripping on his foot and landing on the bed in a heap. Lothíriel grinned at his fallen figure while Imrahil clucked disapprovingly.

"Eli, if you can't hold your drink, you shouldn't have drunk excessively," reprimanded Imrahil. Elphir said nothing but groaned into the bed sheet. Then with a great effort he flipped himself over to look at them.

"Have you changed you mind? Will you come home with us instead tomorrow," he asked his sister, his tone a little slurred. Lothíriel giggled but shook her head.

"No, Eli. I will stay my three weeks here," she said. He groaned again and closed his eye momentarily.

"Well then do try and teach that vixen some sense of propriety," he said. Imrahil and Lothíriel exchanged looks.

"What vixen?" Imrahil asked.

"That vixen! Helen… Holly…" he began.

"Helena, the Chief Marshal's daughter," corrected Lothíriel. Elphir nodded.

"Yes, her. Doesn't she know that it is improper to drag a man onto the dance floor? It's the men who should do the asking," he grumbled and an image of a stunned Elphir being pulled by a lady half his size came into mind, that caused his father and sister to laugh.

"Oh, Eli. I don't think she meant any harm. I think she likes you," Lothíriel said suggestively. Elphir shot her a murderous look.

"My wife will be a lady of decorum and gentility, not a half-wild she-devil," he said, his eyes narrowing further when his words were met with laughter.

"Alright Eli, if you say so. Come on, son; let me take you back to your chambers. You will have a horrific head ache as it is tomorrow morning," said Imrahil and got to his feet. Any attempts from Elphir to get up were met with failure until Imrahil had to grab hold of him and haul him to his feet. Then placing a supportive arm under his son, Imrahil helped his son walk. They both managed a good night to Lothíriel and then were gone. Although a muffled thud and cursing from her father just outside her door told her they hadn't gone far.

But sleep was catching up with her and she moved to snuggle between her comforters, moving a little till she was comfortable. Seconds later, she was fast asleep.

* * *

Morning came quickly and in a daze Lothíriel found herself at the steps of Meduseld saying her goodbyes to her family. She was unable to stop the tears from pricking her eyes or the choke in her throat from surfacing as she held her brothers tight.

"Take care Eli, don't work yourself so hard that you forget to eat or sleep," she said tearfully. Elphir gave her a lopsided grin despite the throbbing in his head.

"I won't, and you try not to become too barbaric okay?" he added, quietly though, so no one else heard. She laughed and lightly smacked his arm. She turned to Erchirion.

"And you, lets try and keep those pants belted up a little longer than one hour a day okay?" she said and Erchirion laughed out loud. He pulled her into a tight hug and kissed her head.

"Yes ma'am," he replied. Amrothos was next and his hug was fiercer that the other two.

"I'll miss you, Riel," he said passionately and once again tears choked her.

"I'll miss you too, and promise you won't shut yourself up with those books of yours all the time," she said. He nodded with a smile.

"I promise," was his reply. Then he moved away and this time Lothíriel couldn't stop her tears from falling. Biting her lips she looked at her father standing before her. He opened his arms and she nearly leapt into them, sobbing against his chest.

"Shh, swan, it isn't as if you are staying here for good," he said and no one realized the conspirational look that passed between Éowyn and Amrothos.

"I know, but I'll miss you so much," she whispered. Imrahil hugged her tighter.

"And I will miss you, but three weeks will pass so quickly, that you'll be back to being a boring princess before you even know it," he replied and she laughed through her tears. They pulled away and he wiped her tear stained face. Her cousin wished to say his goodbye next so Imrahil turned to the King of Rohan. They clasped hands, and Imrahil bent down a little to Éomer.

"If one strand of her hair is harmed, I will break you with my own bare hands," he said softly, a smile still on his face. Éomer returned the smile albeit somewhat wobbly for he knew the authenticity behind Imrahil's words.

"I will guard her with my life," he replied.

"Make sure you do," Imrahil responded then released Éomer's hand with a wink. Éomer released a relieved sigh.

"Have a safe trip home, friend, and I look forward to seeing you again in the white city," he said.

"As well as I, old friend," Imrahil replied then moved away to say good bye to Éowyn then mounted his horse. His sons and men were already mounted. Only Aearon remained grounded and he did not look forward to the ride at all.

"Come on, Aearon. The faster you ride, the faster you may return to your beloved ships," cried Elphir. Aearon gave him a withering look the turned to Lothíriel.

"Well, princess, we part ways here. Do take care of yourself, and if you ever wish to come home, I will ride out to get you myself," he said. Lothíriel smiled widely at him. For him to say that was already a huge thing.

"Thank you, Aearon. I shall be fine, so there is no need for such a sacrifice on your behalf," she responded. Then Aearon reached into the pocket of his pants and pulled out a vial. Inside it was water, sand and white shells stuck together in the shape of a swan.

"Just in case, I made this for you. It is the water from our ocean and the sand from our beach. Even the shells, I had collected from our shores," he said. Lothíriel took the gift and with great delight flung her arms around him.

"Oh thank you, Aearon. This is so wonderful, thank you so much!" she gushed and held the vial gently in her hands. Aearon gave her a grin.

"Glad you like it. Oh well, it is time to ride. Wish me luck, princess," he said and had on such a forlorn face that Lothíriel laughed again.

"You will do well, Lord Aearon, and my blessings go with you," she answered.

"Then it is worth the pain, if the blessings of such a beautiful lady accompany me," he said and Lothíriel couldn't help but blush. Giving him a shove, she pushed him towards his horse. Naturally of course, neither realized the death like looks of a seething king nearby, with his hand already on the hilt of his sword.

Éomer was never a petty man, but this admiral brought out the worst in him. Never had Éomer felt the need to insult a man as he did towards Aearon. So with anger bubbling inside him, he waited till the man had mounted his horse, and then with a huge smile on his face he called out to Aearon.

"Lord Aearon, a gift to ease your sufferings," he called out and threw something to the other man. Aearon caught it easily and held it before him. It was a cushion. There was silence as the people looked between the two. But as he had done before, Aearon broke into a grin and saluted Éomer with the cushion. Then he lifted himself slightly and placed the cushion into his seat.

"Thank you your majesty, I feel better already," he replied, his tone jovial that everyone around him dissolved into small laughter but Éomer did not miss the glint in Aearon's eyes. But he was not worried. Lothíriel will be in his city for the next three weeks, far, far away from the pesky admiral.

The Gondor entourage left shortly later and only once they were out of sight did Éomer, Éowyn and Lothíriel move to return back to the Golden Hall. Lothíriel walked a little in front of them, her shoulders slumped in sadness. Éowyn took this opportunity to speak to her brother.

"That was spiteful of you brother," she hissed to him in Rohirric, low enough so only they could hear it.

"All's fair in love and war, sister," he replied back. Éowyn bristled.

"But you do not love her nor will you promise her marriage. So let her be, so that one day she may marry Aearon," she answered back. Éomer shot her a dagger look and quickened his steps to join Lothíriel, leaving Éowyn behind. Éowyn grinned evilly. _So he does not like the thought of Lothíriel marrying anyone, eh? _That suited her just well.

End of Chapter 9

(8,976 words)


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter Ten

Soon after the Gondorian entourage left, Edoras and her king bid farewell for the second time to the last of their guests as Legolas and Gimli would begin their journey to the Glittering Caves and Fangorn forest. The hobbits would also begin their journey home, the decrease in their Shire weed supply doing well to motivate the four of them on their trip.

So with their departure, hence began Lothíriel's first week in Edoras.

It was the first morning after the last guest's departure and Lothíriel was seated at the dining table, gracefully buttering a slice of bread as Éowyn, whom was seated opposite her was trying not to cringe.

"From what I understand, Faramir's reputation is dependant on whether I can sew or not?" Éowyn asked. From the head of the table, Éomer released a snort.

"Then he is a ruined man before he even weds," Éomer snickered into his goblet. Éowyn shot him a withering look and Lothíriel tactfully smothered a smile. Instead she kept a placid face and nodded to Éowyn.

"Yes, I suppose it could be said that the pride of a man lies in what he can display of his wife's handiwork, like a woman's pride is … the number of battle scars her husband has survived," Lothíriel explained further.

"Is that so? Then no doubt I am a prize to be caught," said Éomer and gave Lothíriel a wink. This time, the princess couldn't help but smile. Éomer would be a prize with or without battle scars; she thought but quickly pushed that thought out of her head. Inhaling deeply she turned back to Éowyn.

"You will also be responsible for hosting parties for nobilities and their boring court wives," she said the last bit with a grin as Éowyn cringed harder.

"And how often must these parties be held?" she asked in despair.

"More than enough, I can assure you," answered Lothíriel.

"I do not see how having a party can be such an ordeal. It is pleasantly easy," Éomer said and in his mind he thought back to all the parties and the dancing he had attended, especially the party two nights ago.

"Well, your majesty, Gondorian etiquette is somewhat more rigid that the Rohirrims. Unlike the wild parties that you Rohirrims enjoy so much, the parties that Éowyn will host are more… quiet and calming. There would probably be a band playing soft tunes somewhere unseen, but the dinner would mostly be occurring at the dining table, where guests shall be seated. And most assuredly there will be no bottomless ale mugs," she said and Éomer smiled.

"If that is so, do me a favor sister, and forget to invite me," he said to Éowyn, who rolled her eyes.

"I would not want you there either," she retorted back to him. Éomer wanted to reply, because heaven forbid Éowyn have the last say, but his sister held up her hand to stop him.

"Hush brother. Lothíriel, please continue, I fear that the "dinner" is not as easy as you have made it sound," said Éowyn, with more than a touch of wariness in her voice. Lothíriel smiled at Éowyn's accurate deduction.

"I wouldn't say hard, just a little confusing, but only in the beginning," she said, adding the last bit hastily as she saw Éowyn's eyes enlarge. However, Lothíriel was unable to continue briefing Éowyn for at that moment, Helena walked in.

"Good morning, your majesty, your highnesses," she greeted them before dropping into a curtsy. Then she moved to stand in between Éomer and Lothíriel's seat though slightly behind their chairs.

"Good morning, Helena, will you join us?" Éomer replied to her greeting, Lothíriel and Éowyn echoing him.

"Thank you, your majesty, but I have broken my fast with my father earlier this morn. Éowyn, the young ladies are ready and waiting, shall we?" she said, smiling. Éowyn, who was about to bite a slice of toast paused halfway.

"What ladies?" she asked. _Oh no_, she was quite sure she wasn't due for any dress fitting until much later in the afternoon. Helena kept her smile.

"The future shield maidens you had promised to instruct in the skills of combat," she said. Éowyn just shook her head, and Éomer and Lothíriel also turned to look at the confused Éowyn. Helena used this opportunity to look pointedly at Lothíriel then at Éomer, then repeated the eye movement. Suddenly Éowyn's face cleared and she quickly got up to her feet.

"Oh, yes! _Those ladies_. Forgive me, but it slipped my mind, I almost forgot," she said and quickly rushed to Helena's side. Éomer shot her a questioning look.

"Éowyn, stop. What shield maiden?" he asked. _What is his sister up to now?_ Éowyn cleared her throat and pursed her lips.

"Not exactly shield maidens, but there are several young ladies who have expressed their interest in the art of combat, and have asked that I give a few lessons. Of course, I had agreed," she explained slowly, once in a while her gaze flicking to Helena, who nodded.

"But Éowyn, I thought you would keep Lothíriel company," he said trying to maintain a smile. It didn't suit him that the princess may find his hospitality somewhat wanting. But Lothíriel quickly shook her head.

"No, your majesty, it is quite alright. It would disappoint the young ladies if Éowyn said no, and I don't want to be blamed for causing such a feeling," she replied, giving him her best smile. Éomer's eyes glazed over a bit, but he shook himself back into focus.

"No will blame you for anything, princess, it is just that…" he began but Éowyn interrupted.

"Brother, why don't _you_ fill in for me for this morning. It isn't as if you have anything important to do," said Éowyn with fake brightness, as if the thought had just occurred to her, and hadn't been run through the night before. Lothíriel's eyes widen at the possibility of being alone with the young king.

"That won't be necessary, Éowyn. I am sure his majesty does have important things to do," she said, but held her breath anyways. She released it softly when Éomer gave her a smile and took her hand into his large ones.

"Princess, it would be an honor. And besides, I wouldn't want you to think that both children of Eomund are rude and inhospitable," he said sweetly, but the barb was obvious enough for Éowyn to give out a protest. However, a small nudge from Helena stopped her from sitting back down and showing that she wasn't _rude_ _and_ _inhospitable_.

"We shall go now, princess if he acts in any way improper, knee him between the legs," she said and with a huff turned to walk away. Lothíriel blushed at Éowyn's words, more from the fact of what is in between the legs than kneeing it. _Honestly Riel, such thoughts, get a hold of yourself!_

The two sat in silence after Éowyn and Helena left, neither knowing what to say to the other. And neither realized that their hands were still clasped together until Feälef entered shortly later and looked at them with raised eyebrows. Immediately Lothíriel pulled her hand back and tucked them in her lap, all the while her head bent.

"Forgive my intrusion, your majesty, but there are some matters that are in need of tending. But if you are busy…" Feälef let his words trail. Éomer cleared his throat and looked apologetically at Lothíriel.

"Princess, I am sorry… I…" he began but Lothíriel shook her head.

"No need for apologies, your majesty. Please do not let my presence hinder your duties. I shall find some way to entertain myself," she replied trying hard to not appear disappointed. Éomer gave her a calculative look, not fully convince of her joviality. Feälef looked at both their saddened faces and sighed, rolling his eyes a little, a small smile playing at his lips that he hid well.

_So that is how it is,_ he thought. Making a great show of it, he unrolled the scroll he was holding and pretended to read. Naturally being the king's adviser, he had already memorized it before making an audience with the king.

"Actually, your majesty, I seem to have made mistake. Your presence is not required till this afternoon. You do not seem to have any plans this morning at all. I do heartily apologize for my error," he said successfully sounding remorse as if he had made the mistake. In truth, there was the whole agenda of borders and lands and treaties, but Feälef supposed it was nothing that he couldn't handle. Better than keeping the attention of a love-struck man, no doubt. Only for this morning though. Éomer, for his part gaped a little at the royal advisor. Feälef and mistake was not something he would put in the same sentence. Éomer had known Feälef for what he felt as forever, when Feälef was still a young man, just appointed as a junior advisor to Théoden, and was well versed with Feälef's nearly obsessive trait of being accurate and perfect the first time around. However, he saw the subtle suffering mixed with amusement in the man's eyes and grinned. _I owe you one old man,_ he thought. He turned to the princess who had not lifted her head even once since Feälef's entrance.

"Well, princess would you still like that tour?" he asked grinning broadly. Lothíriel looked at him, not daring to believe. She turned to Feälef.

"My lord, please don't change anything on my behalf. I am sure…" she began but Feälef shook his head.

"And I am sure you are sure too, but truly your highness, you will be doing _me_ a favor," he said and bowed, more to hide the grin on his face. He could teach a warrior like Éomer to tolerate court affairs and diplomatic matters and being indoors for hours at a time, but it was beyond a confirmed bachelor as himself to keep the attention of a man smitten by a beautiful woman. He will leave that to Helfast, who had gained much experience in that area during Théoden's courting of his lady love. Feälef's thoughts returned back to the present when Éomer stood.

"Shall we then princess, before I have time to fully understand the words of my advisor," said Éomer, giving Feälef a narrowed look. Lothíriel hid her laugh behind a napkin before she too stood. Feälef allowed himself to smile openly at his king's face. Then with a bow he made his exit.

"He seems much at ease with you. Are you two well acquainted?" she asked, her hand tucked neatly against his arm as they made their way to the main doors of Meduseld. Éomer sighed.

"Too well, I am afraid. He taught Éowyn and I our first letters and numbers. If I had known then that someday I would need his counseling I would have most definitely a more amiable pupil," he said. Lothíriel smiled.

"But instead you chose to run from his lessons and ride horses under the sun," she said. He nodded, also smiling.

"Yes, surprisingly, Éowyn was more tolerant of his teachings and allowed herself to be kept inside on a sunny day, a book before her and a quill in her hands. But I… well, confinement didn't agree with me," he sighed again as childhood memories flashed before his eyes. Theodred had been as reluctant as he was in studies and would assist him in ambushing their unsuspecting teacher before running off in a flurry of gold and laughter to disappear for the remaining day. Of course, on their return there would be a stack of work to be completed and a tongue lashing from Théoden. But Éomer had found out early in his youth that Feälef was a softie encrusted in a gruff shell, and had exploited that to its fullest extent. The elder man had never raised his voice or his hands at his wayward students and by and by he became their friend. To say he had grieved at Theodred's death would be insufficient a word.

"I must make use of this outing as much as possible for no doubt he will use his power to keep me locked inside as punishment for all those years or evading him and his lessons," he said with a laugh.

"Revenge is a dish best served cold," Lothíriel answered. Éomer laughed louder at that. They had reached main doors leading outwards, and at the door were two servants to assist in fastening their cloaks, which were made of a thin fabric, its presence more of a customary effect that for its real purpose.

Once they stepped outside into the sun, Lothíriel had to blink at the brightness of the fierce Rohan sun. Already her skin had begun to tingle as the sun's rays began to heat her up. Éomer waited patiently for her to adjust to the bright light then offered his hand again and helped her descend the step that would take them to the heart of Edoras.

Basically their tour followed the same route that Éomer had lead his guests around five days ago, but Éomer found himself suddenly remembering things that he had not told his previous guests. Perhaps the genuine curiosity of his guest contributed to his explanation.

Lothíriel looked admiringly at the design of the building. Without the presence of her impatient male counterparts, Lothíriel found herself discovering things she had not noticed on her first tour of the Rohirrim city. For example, there are two stables on the outskirt of the city. One was the extension of the arena, where she had first met Helena and then just behind it, hidden in the shadows was another, smaller in size, though not by much. She also realized that the carvings that adorned the two buildings were rather unusual. In Dol Amroth, the royal stables had depiction of galloping horses on its walls. But the Rohan stables did not have that elaborate pictures as one would expect from a race that treated horses as equals.

Instead on the larger stable, the walls were of unmarred wood and above the entrance of the great doors leading in, was the head of a man encased in a head armor made of gold, flanked on both sides by two prancing stags, also of gold. Even though he was just a piece of immobile object, Lothíriel couldn't help shiver at the crude magnificence of it. And she could almost swear the empty pits of its eyes were looking directly at her. Where else on the second building there was a drawing of a galloping white horse making the entire one side of the stable and by the side of the door was a full length statue of a woman looking down to anyone who would enter the doors of the stable, a placid smile on her gentle face, her hair made to look as if billowing in the wind, not unlike a horses mane in full gallop. Both the statue and picture were made of a chalky material. The statue towered high above Lothíriel, having been made as tall as the building itself, but she couldn't help feeling drawn to it. Tentatively she reached out and fingered the folds of skirt of the statue. Éomer who had just turned back to her from talking with one of the stable hands went to stand by her.

"That is Peon, the horse goddess. She guards and protects the mares," he said. Lothíriel nodded unable to say anything. It was like she too could feel the power of the goddess wash over her. But Éomer was oblivious to her feelings and moved to bust hanging on the larger stable.

"And this is Cernunnos, the Lord of the Beasts, and he looks after the stallions and bestows them with fertility and vitality," he continued and from his tone it was obvious that this was the favorite of the two. Realization dawned on her.

"You keep your mares and stallions separately?" she asked in wonder. Éomer nodded and looked at her in puzzlement.

"Of course, don't you?" he asked, like anyone would know that. Lothíriel shook her head.

"No," she replied. Éomer snorted.

"Separation reduces tension during mating season and prevents fights in stables," he explained. Lothíriel nodded.

"Yes, that makes sense. Too bad people can not live like that," she said mostly to herself but Éomer heard her.

"Men and women separated? But surely princess, life would be much boring that way," he said. This time it was Lothíriel's turn to snort.

"Spoken like a man who has never attended a court gathering. I, for one, could live without pretense in hoping of ensnaring a suitable husband and I most definitely wouldn't mind having to not witness juvenility of grown men fighting just to win a maiden's favor," she said with vehemence. But Éomer remained unfazed.

"Perhaps, but then there also won't be the silent thrill of stolen glances, shy smiles and if no one's looking a quick and chaste kiss behind the curtains," he said. Lothíriel looked at him, an eyebrow raised.

"Speaking from experience, your majesty?" she asked wryly.

"Princes, if I wish to kiss a maiden, it will not be behind a curtain, nor will it be chaste," he said his voice heavy with meaning, his blue eyes piercing deep within her own, forcing her to remember their first and only kiss.

"No, you wouldn't," she said softly, unable to pull her gaze away.

"And that is speaking from experience right princess?" he said, breaking into a mischievous grin which broke the spell holding her and she was able to turn away, her face bright red.

"All this talking, when there is still so much to see. Will you not continue your tour your majesty?" Lothíriel said quickly changing the subject. Éomer's grin broaden but obliged by holding his hand to her which she accepted thought she still did not look at him.

They walked downwards towards the heart of Edoras; the hustle and bustle of its people. Here, Lothíriel felt a little uneasy. Although there was no open hostility of the people towards her, she could feel their suspicion piercing into her back as she passed them by. And it did not help either that a little girl had to be dragged by her mother when told to give Lothíriel a flower before bursting into hysterical sobs.

"Too many strangers have scarred our lands, and the wound of hostility from my people will take a while to heal," he said softly to her, his tone apologetic as they continued away from the busy area to the city's quieter outskirt. Lothíriel had not even realized her facial expressions revealed what her heart felt. She quickly shook her head at him and smiled.

"Of course, it is no different in my city. It is up to us, as their leaders, to help heal their wounds by understanding their grief and to restore trust via diplomatic relationships with other cities. Perhaps one day Dol Amroth and Rohan could establish a trade relationship, for from what I see of your fair city, there is much that you could offer my people and vise versa," she replied. It was a while for her to realize he had lagged behind a little. Turning, she saw him watching her, his eyebrows raised high to his hairline. _Ai, how could you be so careless, Riel?_

"I have over spoken have I not? I beg your pardon, sometimes my mouth tends to forget its place, and allows my tongue to run a little too free," she said, for the first time feeling fear around the king. But if possible, Éomer's eyebrows rose higher.

"I did not take offense at all. I was just trying to understand who you are, because when I think I have you figured out, you go and prove my thoughts wrong," he said and to her relief he smiled and walked to stand by her.

"I do not know what you are talking about. I am a humble princess, there is nothing unpredictable about me," she said laughing at him slightly. But Éomer shook his head.

"No, I disagree. If anything, you are no more predictable that the next sand storm. But I will figure you out, princess," he said as a promise to himself. Lothíriel just smiled.

"If you so wish, my lord, but you will be disappointed," she replied. He didn't say anything as they continued their walk over a young hillock, him occasionally flicking a glance at her. They rounded the hill and Lothíriel was presented with another sight. Not unlike the flat piece of land that held the horses, this piece of land dipped much lower than the other parts of the hill and had a row or archery targets running against the walls of the city some tilting backwards at the ferocity of the arrows released by their archers, a few dummies of straw encased in canvas hanging from a post and at the furthest end knocked so hard by the charging Eorlings that she could nearly hear the seams rip, and just below them was an area separated from the rest by low fences, and it was in that ring that Lothíriel saw a handful of young girls listening attentively to Éowyn. Perched onto one of the fences was Helena, her brown hair distinguishing her from any body else.

"This is our training area. Do you see that narrow road there? It is connected to the stables and travels behind the city, so my men can transport their horses without much hassle," he said pointing as he explained. Lothíriel followed his gaze and looked as the Eorlings trained. Her father's Swan Knights trained hard daily but their efforts seem to pale compared to the Rohirrims. Even from up there she could see the sweat glistening from their bare backs, their gold hair dark from the liquid of their body. And each of the soldiers shone like bronze statues under the sun's rays. _Would Éomer look as magnificent as they did when he was down there training with them? Or would he outshine them all, his beauty dulling theirs by comparison? _She couldn't help sigh dreamily as she thought of him on the field… topless.

Her thoughts were interrupted when she felt a slight nudge on her arms. Turning, she saw Éomer pointed downwards. She looked down and saw Éowyn waving at her. She waved back with a smile. She turned to Éomer but the young king seemed to have lost his good humor somewhat. In fact he was looking at his training soldiers like they were vile creatures, his frown etched deep into his forehead. _What could have brought on such a change?_ She thought.

"Perhaps we should head back, the sun is getting hotter and I should see what Feälef has done with my country," he said, his voice gruff and… sulky. Lothíriel was a little taken aback. _What on earth was Éomer suddenly sulking about?_ But she said nothing as she placed a hand on his arm and allowed him to lead them back to Meduseld. The trip back was quiet as Éomer looked to be pondering something hard. It was only as the ascended the steps of his palace and had placed their cloaks in the hands of the waiting servants did he turn to her, his brow furrowed.

"I don't want you to go to the training grounds again," he said. Lothíriel's eyes widen.

"What? Why?" she asked, so clearly surprised. _Had she done something wrong? Did she disrespect some sacred warrior routine when she was there?_

"I don't like you looking at other men," was his reply. Lothíriel just stared at him dumbfounded.

"Excuse me?" she said.

"It just is not proper for a princess to be where the men are half dresses like that, that is all," he replied.

"I have seen my fair share of half naked men, Éomer, I do watch when my brothers train with their men," she said dryly. Éomer's expression soured and his blue eyes darken into what Lothíriel could only explain as jealousy. _Ho hum, what is this?_

"You are jealous are you not?" she said breaking into a grin at that realization. Éomer's dark look faded to be replaced by sudden uncomfortableness.

"I am not jealous. Why would I be jealous?" he cried defensively. Lothíriel rolled her eyes.

"You are jealous because I, a lady have seen other men train in their warrior games while you, hero of the War of Rings are cooped up in a four walled room, where you can not show off your prowess to little ol' me, right?" she replied triumphantly. Éomer was speechless to that.

"Do not worry Éomer, you do not have to prove yourself to me, I have heard first hand of your bravery and skills, something that many a men can not even dream of owning to," she said and winked at him.

Éomer was stunned. She thought he was jealous because he couldn't show off to her? Did she really see him as a preening peacock? Well, if that is what she wants to believe, it is far better than the truth anyways. How could he explain his thoughts of wanting to send his men to the gallows when he saw her look at them with more that just appreciation in her eyes?

"You have called my bluff, princess. But promise you will not go there alone?" he said his tone stern. Lothíriel sighed.

"Fine, I shall not go to your precious training ground," she said. Nodding Éomer smiled at her.

"Well, princess it has been a wonderful morning, but I should go and see what has happened to my city. Will you be alright by yourself?" he asked. Lothíriel nodded.

"Yes, and if I may, I would like to walk through your gardens. I had only seen it in passing," she said. Éomer nodded.

"Of course princess, you have leave to roam my palace," he said. Lothíriel brightened at that.

"I may go anywhere?" she asked again. Éomer nodded again and a lopsided grin graced his features.

"Anywhere, but I would ask you to be discreet in entering my bedchambers. We would not want tongues to wag," he said then skillfully evaded her pinching fingers. Lothíriel tried to look reprimanding but couldn't help join in his laughter.

"You are a dreamer, my lord. Any lady that would enter your chambers must be cross eyed," she retorted back.

"Nay, princess you're eyes are not that bad," was his reply and his laughter grew louder at her bristling look.

"Oh, just go to your council and let me have some peace," she said, pushing him slightly. He grabbed her hands and placed kisses on both palms.

"In peace then I shall leave you. I will see you at lunch," he said, dropping her hands. With a quick wave he turned on his heels and disappeared behind a set of doors. He had not realized that Lothíriel had not responded, she stood there her cheeks burning bright, her palms presses against her face.

* * *

Unfortunately for Lothíriel, after their half day together, that was the last she saw of Éomer for many a days. In fact Lothíriel was left for much part of those days to entertain herself as both siblings were preoccupied. In the beginning she had to satisfy herself by roaming the palace, feeling small ripples of joy when she found the entrance to a beautiful garden separated from the other parts of the city by a high wall, or the time when she stumbled through a door to find the library behind it, though that was more frustrating as the books were in Rohirric and she could not read it. Eventually the princess found solace in just staring out the window at the people outside living their lives, wasting the hours with fantasies created within the safe havens of her mind, idle till the siblings would meet her for afternoon meals and then Lothíriel and Éowyn would spend the remaining hours of the day locked inside the four walls of a dressing chamber where a certain fussy and cranky seamstress held the key.

Four days had passed and once again Lothíriel was seated on her now favorite chair overlooking the city outside. She let out a sigh and wished with all her might that she was there amongst them, and not confined to the perimeters of the palace. But any attempts to leave would be thwarted expertly by Éomer's chief advisor himself, and Lothíriel swore that man had eyes everywhere, for he never missed a step she made. Must have been all those years of dogging his some-what reluctant pupils, she thought with a smile. Besides even if she did manage to escape out into the city, with her black hair and silk clothes, she was like a fish out of water. Unless… she wasn't wearing her customary dresses and her hair was tucked neatly in a scarf. An idea had begun to form within her pretty head and not wanting to waste too much time, she quickly headed back to her room. Once she got there, she gently bolted her door and rummaged through her trunk. Yes! She had not forgotten it. Slowly she pulled a dress of muslin blue, with a woolen apron sewed to its front. Rummaging a little deeper, she unearthed another desired object; a head scarf of sky blue, large enough to completely hide her jet black hair. And to top it off came a pair of soft leather black shoes. Well that wasn't very common, but she did not think anyone would look at her feet.

She arranged the pile neatly on her bed before stepping out of her room and looked searchingly across the empty corridors.

"Does her highness require some assistance?" a soft voice to her left startled her. She turned and saw it was one of the many maids of the palace. She nodded and put on a slightly wobbly smile.

"Yes, I have a terrible headache and would it be possible for me to not be disturbed for the remaining morning?" she asked tentatively. The young girl frowned a little, translating Lothíriel's words in her mind. After a second or two her face cleared up.

"Yes, your highness of course. I will make sure no one disturbs you," the girl replied slowly. Lothíriel gave her a grateful smile.

"Would you like some tea… or would you like me to call our healer?" the girl spoke again and Lothíriel quickly shook her head.

"No, that would not be necessary, I just need some sleep, I shall be fine," Lothíriel said quickly. The girl was not very convinced. What would her king say if his pretty guest was allowed to be in pain and a healer not called? Besides, there are talks that she would be the next queen of Rohan, and it wouldn't do to insult her now.

Lothíriel saw the conflicted look on the young girl's face and smiled a little wider. She reached out and placed a hand gently on the girl's arm.

"I am alright, do not worry, I will be fine this afternoon, okay?" she said to the surprised girl. She gaped a little at Lothíriel's hand on her arm before nodding vigorously.

"Thank you," said Lothíriel again and quickly headed back into her room.

Once inside, she set to work. First she piled the pillows in the center of the bed and pulled the blanket over it, to make it seem like a body was sleeping in the bed. Then she quickly changed from her dress to the muslin dress, unable to resist a contented sigh after being released from the confining corset. Lastly, she released her hair from its intricate braids and tied it into a ponytail, looping the ends so it hung half the length. Finishing off she tied the scarf around her head and took a look into the mirror.

"But I still look foreign," she grunted in despair. Dejectedly she looked around the room hoping against hope that something would inspire her. And inspire it did, for on the windowsill was a pot of flower. She picked the pot off the sill and took it back to the mirror. Using only a finger she dug a little of the soil and smeared it thinly over her cheeks and forehead. Then doing the same thing she brushed some dirt over her apron and dress. Once she was done, she no longer looked like a groomed princess, but like a farm girl, just coming back from her daily chores. There was no way she would be identified. Smothering a triumphant yell, Lothíriel snuck out of her room, after making sure that the corridor was COMPLETELY empty.

She headed quickly for the mess hall, which she had discovered on one of her previous exploration, much to the chagrin of the palace cooks who thought it improper for any member of royalty to be in such a lowly place. She reached the kitchen and holding her breath she quietly slipped in. she stopped momentarily, leaning against the door and held her breath. She received a few odd looks but none of it told her she was recognized. Breathing out with relief, she began to maneuver her way through the meandering road of tables and people.

As she made her way out she couldn't help but smile as she beheld the wonder before her. It was a room full of loud and boisterous woman. They were laughing, yelling and some were even singing as their hands moved deftly in preparation of the noon and evening meals. On one side of the kitchen she saw a huge fire where three peacocks and two boars were turning on a spit, a young boy positioned at each spit, turning it around as an elder woman coated it with rich honey at each turn. Large tables were groaning under the weight of vegetables and fruits, some cut, some still in its original form. Not being able to resist, Lothíriel snuck underneath the arms of a large lady and picked up a juicy apple, pulling away just as a ladle landed where her hand had been. Laughing she winked at the lady, who was shaking her head at Lothíriel and saying something she didn't understand and took a bite off her apple.

The only scare came when she was suddenly stopped just a few steps from the exit by a tall lady. The lady said something to her but Lothíriel could only stare at her, the apple stuck in her mouth and her heart pounding a mile a minute. She was going to be discovered. But the revelation never came, as the lady just shook her head and shoved a basket into her arms. She stared dumbly at the basket before it registered. That lady had mistaken her as one of the help and she was holding dirty linen in her arms. If it weren't for the weight of the thing, Lothíriel would have jumped in glee. She was truly a part of them now. Skipping happily she headed out of the kitchen into the bright sunlight. Blinking a couple of times, she dumped the basket alongside some others and quickly ran out from the palace grounds.

* * *

It was better than she had ever imagined. The city was so busy that she easily blended in without anyone so much as looking at her. She visited one stall to another, smiling to anyone who would talk to her but never replying as she had no idea what was said to her. She realized soon after that Edoras was very different from Dol Amroth. Dol Amroth was like a well organized pantry, where items were placed in order of similarities, but Edoras was a mixture of everything. It was not unusual to have a row of houses right in the middle of what seemed like a market, then branch out to form a perimeter with hawker stalls set up in between or right outside the houses. And in the middle of it all was a flat piece of land where the children played as their parents worked, their laughter and cheer adding to the already noisy place. Lothíriel indulged herself a little and stood watching the children play, their golden hair glittering in the sun, rivaled only by their dazzling smile as they ran and played. A sudden longing for home washed over her and she slipped her hand into her pocket to finger the vial Aearon had given her. She missed him and her family very much, but the thrill of a new place still enticed her and she quickly dismissed her homesickness to continue looking at the children. She realized that this was also the same place where Éomer's party had been held and where they had danced… she blushed furiously as the memory came back to her and her thoughts wandered to the King of Rohan.

_What is he up to now?_ She thought, in her head already picturing him behind a desk of solid wood, his head bent over a parchment, hair ruffled in frustration and eyes glazed. Such a shame to cage a free spirit like him. But some sacrifices had to be made now he was king… like marrying a Rohirrim lady.

_Lothíriel! Don't go there!_ Her mind suddenly shouted out and Lothíriel quickly began to think of other things. Like the sun was high in the sky now.

"Time to head back in," she sighed, thinking of the horrid hours she would have to spend with the tyrannical seamstress. But a sudden grip on her arm caused her to forget anything but the searing pain that ripped up her arm. Turning to the person she was slightly terrified to see a tall man with dirty blond hair. He said something to her but she didn't understand. He yelled at her this time and she nearly fainted from the reek of his breath. He was obviously drunk. Not wanting to blow her cover, Lothíriel just shook her head and tried to pull away from him. Sensing that she was trying to run, he tightened the grip around her arm and yelled louder, pulling her closer as she did. She had begun to panic and the blood was pounding in her ears. She looked around trying to catch someone's attention, but the scene didn't seem out of the ordinary to her passerby and she was left to fend for herself.

"Please, let me go," she whispered fearfully. His eyes widen at her usage of the common tongue and a nasty grin broke out against his black lips, revealing several rotten teeth. He said something again and the tone he said it in did not sound good. He pulled her even closer to him, his other hand reaching out to her waist and she was about to scream for help when everything stopped. Looking at the drunk she saw his eyes wide with fear and she realized another hand gripped the same hand that held her arm in a deathlike grip. She closed her eyes and prayed that it wasn't him, though she hoped with all her might it _was_ him. But a voice spoke out and she knew it was NOT him. She looked up to her savior, realizing he was familiar but could not remember who he was. She was hardly aware of the clipped words he said to the drunk man but was fully aware of him retreating back into the crowd, bowing every often to them. She cradled her injured arm, rubbing it gently, hoping to ease the pain.

"Are you terribly hurt… _your highness_?" Lothíriel's head snapped up to the amused blue eyes. How did he know? And how many other people know? Is that why no one would help her?

"Do not look at me so, your highness, I will not tell your secret," he said and smiled at her. Relief washed over her and that along with the slight trauma of being attacked, Lothíriel's legs turned to jelly. Sensing her predicament, the young man quickly steered her to a nearby bench. He sat next to her but maintained a respectable distance. Lothíriel inhaled deeply and sat quietly until her insides had completely calmed. Then she turned to her savior.

"Thank you for saving me. I don't know what…" her words broke off halfway and she inhaled deeply again.

"That is quite alright princess, it is over," he said kindly. She smiled at him again and they sat quietly for a second longer.

"How did you know that I am… well, me?" she finally asked. He smiled at her question and pondered a while, as if finding the right words.

"When one has seen a being so beautiful that the gods would weep in jealousy, it is hard to not recognize her again, even if she is coated in self made mud," he answered and Lothíriel blushed.

"You have a glib tongue, kind sir, but pray tell when we have met?" she asked. He smiled again.

"I am Elleon, you highness, King Éomer's…"

"Messenger! You are the young boy who delivered Éomer's message to me," she said in sudden recognition. _That's why he was so familiar_. Elleon beamed that she remembered him.

"I am honored to be remembered by such a lovely lady," he said and bowed his head. Lothíriel laughed and gently swatted his arm.

"Forgive me if I offend, but why is her highness wondering the city without an escort and dressed so commonly?" he asked after a moments pause. Lothíriel wondered if she should tell. At first she did not want to, but the realized that it would benefit to have a friend other that Éomer and Éowyn.

"I was bored in the palace, with Éomer and Éowyn busy, so I decided to dress as everyone else and enjoy your city. Not that it worked," she said despairingly. Elleon smiled sympathetically at her.

"You were doing quite well, until Old Man Daroth attacked you," he said, a little angry that the princess should be handled in such a barbaric way. Lothíriel shivered a little at the thought of him.

"He did scare me. He was yelling something at me, but I could not understand. Then when I told him to let me go, he tried..." she shivered again.

"Do not think about it, your highness. He won't be bothering you again. He does that to most maidens but goes away when she gives him a farthing for a mug of ale," he explained.

"I see. That must have been what he wanted. Well, I suppose my days of cavorting unknown have come to an untimely end," she said, her voice heavy with woe. _Back to moping around the palace again_. Elleon was silent for a while.

"Your highness, perhaps there is still a way. I think I know someone who would be more than happy to show you around the city… as one of us," he said smiling mischievously. Lothíriel's eyes widen in joy.

"Really Elleon? Do you really know someone who would not mind?" she asked. He nodded.

"Yes, and she will keep your secret as well," he replied. He got to his feet and held a hand for her with she eagerly accepted. Tucking her hand neatly around his arm, he led her through the bustle of crowd to the further end, where the people had begun to thin out and there were only a handful of houses. He stopped before a house where there was a woman hanging up some clothes, her back to them. He beckoned her to enter in to the compound but went up to the woman alone. They talked for a while, and Lothíriel thought she heard her name and Dol Amroth being said every now and then. Their talk continued a little longer then the woman turned to Lothíriel with a smile and walked up to her. She curtsied before the princess before standing to face Lothíriel.

"Your highness, I am Elanora, Elleon's sister and I would be honored to be your escort for as long as you need," she said. Lothíriel was quite startled at the directness of it, but welcomed it.

"Thank you for your kindness, but are you sure I am not imposing?" she asked fretfully. Elanora smiled and shook her head.

"No, and I welcome the company as well, housework can be a lonely companion sometimes," she said with a wink and Lothíriel knew that she and Elanora would become great friends. On impulse she leant forward and hugged the woman. Elanora was startled at first but then returned the hug.

* * *

And so what started as a pack to keep a visiting princess from withering of boredom blossomed into a wonderful friendship between the two ladies and every morning for that whole week, it was not unlikely to see Elanora and "Leonine"- a visiting cousin- wondering around the market place, and slowly Lothíriel became a familiar face among the Eorlings and at an equal pace began to absorb their culture and language, occasionally being able to converse with the locals with whatever Rohirric she could remember from Elanora's teachings. And it was these outings that kept her spirits up even when having to handle another tiring fight between Éowyn and the seamstress.

However, her happiness was not shared by the other two royals of the family. Éomer was more than a little irked that in the week she had been here, he had not been able to spend any longer than fifteen minutes in her company and Éowyn was downright livid that between training and her stupid dress making sessions she had no time to think of ways to get her brother and Lothíriel together.

"Helena, it's been eight days and nothing! Nothing at all!" she ranted to her friend within the safety of her room. Lothíriel was in bed with a headache so that gave her some time to get her plan working. From her bed, where she was seated cross legged, Helena sighed.

"I don't know Éowyn. Why not let Fate run its course?" she said. Éowyn glared at her.

"Because Fate is a wretched old man who sits idly on his butt and does nothing!" she snapped. Helena grinned at that. Why it was only two days ago that Éowyn was singing praises to Fate and Its powers.

"Fine what do we do?" she said. Éowyn pondered her words.

"I have… no idea," she said in despair before falling on the bed next to her friend. _This was hopeless._

* * *

That night Éomer sat facing the fire, absent mindedly cleaning his sword while his thoughts wondered aimlessly about the silent halls, stopping most of the times on a certain visiting princess. Éomer sighed again. He didn't which was more torturous: having her live in his home but so far out of reach, or anticipating the day when she would _leave_ his home. All the insecurities he had felt when Wormtongue had lived there reared their ugly head and he was once again confused. He disliked not being able to control the things in his life… like Wormtongue's hold over his uncle and harassment of his sister, his cousin's death, and his friends dying… his thoughts had become so black and ominous that a gentle touch on his shoulder was received as a full frontal attack. He whipped around on the person and pinned her to the wall, the blade of his sword against her neck.

Lothíriel couldn't say anything as she stared into his hate filled eyes, his sword just inches from her neck, his body pressed firmly against hers, preventing any escape. She had passed by and saw him by himself and thought perhaps he would like some companionship. Obviously she was wrong. She watched as the dark eyes quickly gave way to confusion and then anguish. She heard the sword fall to the ground and the heavy body lift off hers.

"Ai, Lothíriel, what have I done! Are you hurt? Please forgive me," Éomer cried out reaching out to feel her neck for any abrasion. She wasn't hurt, but if he didn't stop rubbing her neck so tenderly she may melt into a puddle of mush.

"Éomer, I am fine, really," she said finally and with great effort pushed his hands away. He looked at her a little longer before turning to slump against the sofa. Lothíriel's heart went out for him as she looked at his tired body hunched there. Not unlike her father during the dark times. She moved to sit by his side.

"What's wrong, Éomer?" she asked gently. He was quiet at first.

"I don't think I can do this," he whispered finally. Lothíriel reached out and placed a comforting hand on his slouched back.

"Yes, you can Éomer. It will get easier with time," he said soothingly.

"Easier! It will never get easier to know that hundreds of thousands of people depend on you, that your every decision will affect so many others… that… that I will have to always sacrifice my hearts desire," he turned to look at her as he said the last bit. His feelings showed in his eyes, so easy for her to read.

"Éomer…"

"I wish things were different," he said. Lothíriel looked away, biting her lips. But when she turned back she was composed again.

"I wish it were too, but it isn't" she replied. He sighed.

"Lothíriel… I want you to know that…" he began but she stopped him.

"Don't. Don't say it. Let's leave the words in our hearts, silent, and buried deep within," she said. He nodded. To say it out loud would only invite pain, for both of them. They can lie to others, continue the façade of friendship, and never let it be known that they had fallen in love with each other. The last eight days, even with the least of interactions, had been enough for the feeling to take root. Though it may never flourish, it remained, anchored inside their hearts.

"Friends," he said, pain ripping through his heart with every syllable.

"Friends," she said and wondered… could a broken heart be broken again?

End of Chapter 10

(8,417 words)


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter Eleven

Two days passed since their conversation in the library and the two acted as if it had never taken place. Éomer continued treating her like a beloved friend and Lothíriel continued her charade as _Leonine_ around Edoras. On this particular morning Lothíriel was alone in her exploration as Elanora was busy elsewhere.

"_God morgen,_ Leonine," a lady carrying a basket of apples greeted to her.

"_God morgen_, Beatrix" she replied waving at her new friend, feeling a little thrill run down her spine at being able to master the language so quickly. She continued her solitary walk, greeting the few familiar faces as she passed them by. It felt good to not be a stranger anymore and she owed it all to Elanora and Elleon. Even Daroth had stayed away from her, though she did occasionally find his stares a little unsettling. She must find a way to repay their generosity before she left. Inhaling the sweet smell of a new day and the more permanent smell of hay that seemed to be fix within Edoras and her people, Lothíriel moved out of the busy market place to the back alley of the city. She noticed once the crowd had thinned that there was small dusty road leading downwards to somewhere that she didn't remember seeing before and decided to venture further down the road.

As she continued further down the steep path, the noise began to fade behind her and she realized that this was an unused part of the city. _And no wonder for who could live here?_ She thought. It was all terrains, not a single flat land. She had to constantly be aware of where she was putting her foot because one wrong step and she would fall head first down the rocky slope._ But why would there be a road here if no one lives here_? She thought still puzzled. She continued walking the dirt road when it suddenly made a sharp turn into a stone wall. Even more puzzled, Lothíriel walked up towards the stone wall and ran her hands over its rough surface. Looking up she could just make out one of the golden carved horses of Meduseld. _She was right by the hill beneath the palace_. And by the look of the path, it would seem there was a secret chamber of some sort that must make up some part of the hill, possibly an underground extension of the palace itself. She continued her investigation by pushing against the rock wall as she walked and her efforts paid off when at one point the stone wall gave way and moved open a crack. Putting more energy into her push, she managed to edge the crack a little more until it was big enough for her to squeeze in. Slipping in she waited till her eyes were adjusted to the dark.

What lay before her stunned her. She was standing in a gigantic cave. A stream of water flowed through the middle of the cave from a crack in the cave wall to the fathomless end of the cave. Whatever sunlight that managed to enter through the crack shone against the surface of the water, casting silvery shadows across the walls, allowing Lothíriel to see more of its magnificence. After making sure the hole will not close, Lothíriel edged further into the cave, admiring the splendor of the wet walls and the stalagmites and stalactites. She had seen many caves, seeing that she lived by the sea but none of them had even a bit of the raw beauty this cave had. No doubt it had been formed a long time ago. Then she noticed something that didn't fit. A little inside, there were carvings on the walls eroded from time but she could still get the general idea of it. It looked like horses riding against the wind, their manes blowing wildly behind them. Looking around a little closely she saw large nails and loops nailed into the stone walls. _Like what you would see in stables used to tie horse reins to._ _Sweet Amroth, this was one big stable!_ Lothíriel gasped. Sometime in the past, possibly even as back as Eorl, this had been used as a safe haven for horses!

"Their love for horses is an obsession," she said to herself, snippets of her words echoing back to her across the caves. _Silly Rohirrims_, she thought with a laugh and headed back to the outside world. She had to shield her eyes for a few seconds to adjust her vision but once her surroundings were no longer a big blur, Lothíriel headed back up the dusty road back into the heart of the city. She was about to head back to the palace when she remembered to visit Hermés. She had visited him every time since her little escapade, and saw no reason to not do so now. As in the market place, she was a known figure so she had no trouble with the stable-boys. Today, however, would prove to be quite a different visit that the previous days. For when she entered the stable, there wasn't the normal calmness of horses idly eating the oats prepared, but instead a handful of men in one of the paddocks and aggravated mares in the others. There was a foul stench of blood in the air and strangled cries of pain bouncing off the stable walls.

Cautiously so to not attract any unwanted attention, Lothíriel inched closer to the small crowd of people, craning her neck to peer over the tall shoulders. Then as if sensing her thoughts, a few bodies shifted and Lothíriel was given a perfect view of the scene. She had to swallow a shriek at what she saw. On the stable floor writhing in pain was a mare in labor with blood coating her rear end and the hay that had been placed beneath her. Tears pricked her eyes as she heard the painful wail of the horse. She turned away from the bloody sight and wanted to ask someone what was wrong and why no one was helping when a familiar voice drew her attention back to what lay before her. Kneeling beside the mare, his face coated in a thin layer of sweat, his bare chest covered in blood was Éomer. She stared dumbly at him as he bellowed to the people around him. There was a basin of clear water and clean rags next to him, one hand prodding the back of the mare, the other feeling around her pregnant stomach.

Like a jigsaw puzzle it all fell into place. The mare was having difficulty giving birth and Lothíriel knew that if the foal was not taken out soon both would die. She watched as Éomer looked frustratedly at his hands and then the entrance to the mare behind. _The foal must be in the wrong birthing position but_ _his hands are too big. He can't go in and assist,_ she thought. There was another commotion and a young boy was pushed into the scene. He looked frightenedly at the horse then Éomer. Éomer shouted something at him and the boy knelt, his body visibly trembling. Catching a few familiar words, Lothíriel realized that Éomer wanted the boy to put his hand up the mare's rear and grab hold of the foal's legs and turn it around. But _he's too scared, he'll end up injuring the horse and himself_, she thought and looked wildly about her noticing that the boy's hands were the only one's suitable. And hers. Not wasting anymore time she pushed pass the people before her.

"_Onhreran_!" she cried and pushed the last resisting force between her and the mare. Once there, she grabbed the boy by his collar and tossed him aside, the sudden adrenaline giving her strength. Ignoring the sudden shocked look of Éomer and the people around her, she pulled back her sleeve, dipping it quickly into the water basin then leveled it with the entrance of the horse's rump.

"Alright, do I go in now?" she asked a still shocked Éomer. He blinked at her but another painful wail from the horse jolted him back.

"Yes, slowly insert your arm, and try to turn the foal around," he said. Nodding she curled her fingers into a small fist and slipped her arm into the birth canal, gagging a little at the smell. She had never done this but feeling around the passage she knew instantly why there was no space for Éomer's hand. The mare was having twins! Once she was ¾ up the canal the mare's uterus gave a violent contraction that made her cry out in pain. Tears glistened in her eyes. It took a long twenty minutes between paroxysms before she was able to feel the foal.

"You're doing great. Just breathe and relax," Éomer said softly from behind her, softly kneading her shoulders as another contraction threatened to squeeze her arm off. Once the pain had resided a little, she nodded.

"Feel for the legs," he said, his words guiding her hand movements. She nodded again, not willing to speak in case she started crying from the pain in her arm.

"Got it? Good, now pull it out. Don't worry, just pull it out," he said and she pulled. Next thing she knew there was a loud sucking sound and in a flurry of blood and mucus a colt popped out of the womb and onto her lap. Shortly later, the second one followed. But the battle was not over yet. Though the foals were in healthy condition, the mare showed no sign of getting better. It just lay there panting, its eyes beginning to close.

"It's dying," Éomer said his voice thick with emotion. Lothíriel looked at him then at her then at the two foals still in her lap.

"No, no it's not! I just put my hand up a horses rear end, and I'll be damned if it was for nothing!" she suddenly yelled. She placed the foals on the straw and moved to the mare's stomach.

"I saw a midwife do this once to a lady who had problems," she panted as she kneads hard the mare's stomach. Éomer caught on and quickly assisted her. They worked for a couple more minutes as others watched and their efforts paid off when the mare expelled a huge afterbirth. There was a still moment as everyone held their breaths and could only watch the silent mare. But then she opened her eyes and after a few tries successfully got to her feet. Her babies which had been cleaned immediately went up to her and began to nurse.

Lothíriel just watched, still panting a little hard from her efforts.

"You saved her life," he spoke softly next to her. She turned and suddenly became a little shy. She wanted to reply but found herself engulfed in a tight hug. It took her several seconds before she could return his hug. All that she could think of at that moment was how silky his bare skin was under her palms. They pulled away when they realized that there was cheering in the stables. Looking around they saw people were dancing and clapping.

"They are cheering for you," he said. Lothíriel blushed.

"I didn't do anything any other person wouldn't have done. It was just lucky that I have small hands," she said. He grabbed those hands in question and squeezed them tight.

"A blessing," he said and she felt her face become redder.

"Don't do that, I am getting blood all over you," she said. He looked at her then reached out for the wet rags and began cleaning them himself. Lothíriel was spellbound as she watched his larger hands work on hers, slowly removing the blood and mucus from between her fingers, on her palms, up towards her elbow and up some more to her shoulder. She closed her eyes to heighten her senses even more. _What a wonderful feeling,_ she thought just only able to suppress a moan of pleasure. She didn't however manage to prevent a whimper of protest when he let go of her hands. She opened her eyes and saw her grinning at her. She picked up some hay and threw it at him which was granted a laugh from him. She watched as he stood up, flexing his tired muscles as he did so and once again she was transfixed at how beautiful he was. She barely noticed her own hand going out to take his as he helped her to her feet. Only when she was fully standing did he realize what she was wearing.

"Princess, what in Eorl are you wearing?" he asked. Lothíriel bit her lip at that. _Ah, her charade had been discovered._ She was however spared from answering him for that moment when two men approached them, one holding a foal in each arm. They spoke with Éomer for a while and he nodded.

"Princess, we would be honored to have you name our two new additions," he said and instantly the stable grew quiet.

"Me? But I…"

"You're the reason all three are alive, it is only right," he quickly interrupted. She nodded and turned to the foals.

"Here, tie the ribbon around their necks as you name them," Éomer said again and hander her two blue ribbons. She looked at the two again, wondering what she would call them. They had fought a fierce battle too be here and should be named appropriately. _Ah, she had it._

"I shall name thee _Ferô_, and thee _Feôhtän, _and may you both prove to be the fighting spirit of the warriors that will ride you one day," she said and tied the ribbon around each of the foal's necks. Lothíriel then turned to Éomer with a smile. But the king did not return it as he just stood there and stared at her. She then realized so was everyone else.

"Did I say it wrong? Please forgive me, I am still new in learning your language," she said despairingly. _Oh had she just humiliated herself? _

"No, that was perfectly said, Princess. Thank you," he said and took one her hand, dropping a kiss to the back of the palm, all the while keeping his eyes on hers.

"Your highness never has a noble woman done what you have done, not even a woman of Rohan born," one of the men holding the foal said.

"Aye, you truly are the Lady of the Horse," the second man interjected and as one they bowed to her. Éomer stepped back from her and he too bowed his head to her.

"_Hǽgl, Faemne of Mearh_! Hail, Lady of the Horse!" he said loudly.

"_Hǽgl, Faemne of Mearh_! Hail, Lady of the Horse!" cried the others and the tears she had held back began to flow down her cheeks.

* * *

"So what adventures will _Leonine_ be having this morn?" Éomer asked as he casually buttered his toast not looking at the princess who had suddenly gone a little red. Ever since Lothíriel had entertained her hosts with her stories as Leonine, Éomer had lost no chance in teasing her every chance he got.

"Your majesty, before you continue further in your teasing, may I remind you that it was I who saved two foals of yours," said Lothíriel in mock huff. Éomer just laughed and nodded.

"You do not have to remind me, princess, that is all the people of this city are talking about," he said winking at her. Yes, he made light of her feat, but inside he was eternally grateful for what she had done.

"Then its best that their _king_ remember it as well. Imagine what would happen if it _accidentally_ got around Middle Earth that it was a simple Dol Amroth princess who was the one responsible for saving a great Rohirrim steed as their king, supposedly lords of horses, just stood around helpless?" she said raising her eyebrows. Éomer's eyes widen and he raised himself to his full sitting down height.

"Princess, you dare threaten a great king as myself? Careful I do not throw your beautiful self into the gallows," he growled, but that only caused Lothíriel to laugh.

"Your prison can not hold me, your majesty, your people adore me after what I have done, they will not have me imprison," she replied haughtily. Éomer grinned and looked at her.

"They are not the only ones who adore you," he said quietly, his teasing mood subdued. Lothíriel understood the meaning and her gaze fell to her breakfast plate, she suddenly feeling shy.

Éowyn, yes she was present too although gone unnoticed by the two, watched their exchanged with great satisfaction. Her plan and all right Amrothos' as well, was working wonderfully. More than wonderful in fact. Now what excuse could Éomer possible come up with to NOT marry Lothíriel? As the princess said, the people of Rohan adore her. In her glee she let out a little laugh.

"And what tickles you today sister?" Éomer asked, her laughter catching both their attention. Éowyn realized her mistake and grinned guiltily at them. She couldn't possibly tell them of "The Plan".

"Uhmm, well… I was just thinking… how coincidental it is that Éomer as king is Lords of Horses and you are dubbed Lady of the Horse," she said mentally patting her back for her quick thinking and even more when Lothíriel turned bright red. Even Éomer began to flush red around the neck.

"Purely coincidental I am sure," Lothíriel said. Éowyn nodded but grinned mischievously. Éomer just rubbed his neck not really knowing what to say. Lothíriel gave her a hostile look.

"I am sure there is no significance behind it," Lothíriel said again, this time her tone firmer. Éowyn nodded again but her grin grew as well. Ooh, she couldn't wait to tell Helena about this. Or Amrothos. Both will be equally excited about the "coincidence". They sat in awkward silence, as Éomer didn't know what to say without causing Lothíriel to turn redder, Lothíriel was silently wondering if it _was_ a coincidence and Éowyn was bathing in her triumph and intellect not to mention her brother's uncomfortableness.

However, the moment was interrupted when Feälef entered. He bowed to them then turned to address his king.

"Your Majesty, Lord Beorn and Lord Dacre have arrived," he said. Éomer nodded and stood up.

"Please excuse me my ladies, duty calls" he said to his sister and guest. They both nod and with a last smile to them Éomer and Feälef headed to his study, where matter of state usually took place. But just as he rounded the corner he used the opportunity to glance one last time at the princess who was it seems was frowning at something Éowyn was happily stating.

"She is quite lovely, is she not?" Feälef's calm voice pulled his thoughts back from the princess. Éomer looked at him blankly.

"Who?" he asked. Feälef just about managed to refrain from rolling his eyes.

"Do not play games with me Éomer. I am too old to humor you," he said wryly. Éomer grinned.

"Yeah, she is," he admitted.

"And more importantly a wonderful person, not to mention very impressive, and she does seem to have the peoples favor," Feälef continued. Éomer began to cringe inwards. Unlike the rest of Rohan, Feälef was of the same thinking as Éowyn. _He _had no troubles serving a foreign queen.

"Feälef, do not do this to me. Unless you can definitely tell me that she will be accepted as queen, not someone who pulled two foals out a horse's rear, but as queen, then I will ask her to marry me," he said. Feälef sighed. He was getting tired of the _'people's need outweigh my need'_ crap. Théoden had not cared; Theodred would not have cared so he couldn't understand why Éomer _DID_ care.

"Fine, let her slip through your fingers. It baffles me how you can be smart yet stupid all in one moment," he said. Éomer said nothing but fixed his adviser a glare to kill. Naturally Feälef remained unperturbed. They reached Éomer's study in silence.

"Beorn, Dacre, Helfast greetings to you three," Éomer greeted as he entered the big room and went to sit in his seat. Lord Helfast, Dacre and Beorn alongside some others had stood when he entered then once again took their seats when Éomer had seated.

"Greetings, your majesty, and how do you fare?" Dacre asked. Éomer nodded.

"I have been well, though I wouldn't pass any opportunities to go riding," he said and glared at Feälef as he said this, who again remained composed. Dacre and Beorn smiled. Sad was the man who sat on his throne. Helfast just grinned. Feälef has finally gotten his revenge on his truant student.

"Revenge is a dish best served cold, am I right Counselor Feälef?" said Helfast. Feälef just looked at him innocently.

"Dear friend, what are you talking about? I have no need for revenge," he answered. Éomer growled at the two.

"We are here to discuss matters of importance, not exchange childish chatter," he snapped and to his frustration, Helfast and Feälef's smile grew bigger. If only he hadn't grown up under their care as well as Théoden, and loved them like brothers, he would lock those two up in his darkest of dungeons. Deciding to ignore the two he turned to the other two lords.

"Come, what tidings do you bring of your clan?" he said, all thoughts of petty vengeance gone as he listened attentively to Beorn and Dacre as well as their advisers who updated Éomer on the state of their lands and its people. Éomer nodded as their reports were glowing with satisfaction, a sign that things were turning for the best.

"And your boundaries? Are they safe as well?" he asked. Here, Dacre began to fidget a little.

"Well, your majesty, there have been sightings of the people of Dunlands. So far they are of no threat, and have not been seen to be in more than five a crowd at one time. They do not ride even, but walk to wherever they head," said Dacre. Éomer frowned at this. Dunlendings were never a good sign, whether they were simply passing by or charging with a spear.

"But they do not disturb the peace?" Helfast asked, his attention caught by the sudden news. Dacre shook his head.

"No, they do not," he confirmed.

"Leave them be, for last I heard they are too war torn to be of any threat, but do not relax your patrols. They may be poverty stricken but the cunning minds of the Dunlands have been known to cause more harm," said Éomer. Dacre nodded.

"Helfast, send some scouts to cover the perimeter of Rohan for any unusual activity," he said as his captain nodded.

"And you Beorn, what of your borders?" Éomer asked.

"We have had no sightings of any hostile beings, human or creatures, but I have taken measures in tightening the border guards, just in case," he answered.

"That is a wise move. We can never be too careful. Both your clans are out of the city walls, if anything should happen your towns will be attacked first. So be constantly alert and always have a messenger at disposal," he said seriously. He had learnt from experience that Dunlendings were no laughing matter.

"Is there any more that needs to be addressed?" he asked. Dacre shook his head but this time it was Beorn's turn to fidget. Dacre glanced at him and frowned. This was not lost to Éomer.

"Beorn, you seem uncomfortable. And why does Dacre send you warning looks?" he asked. If possible, Beorn looked even more uncomfortable.

"My lord, as you know, I am here only as proxy to my father, who is the true Clan leader, but is unfortunately bedridden," he began. Éomer nodded and Dacre's frown grew creating much to the curiosity of the captain and counselor.

"He wishes to make you an offer, my lord," said Beorn fidgeting even more. Éomer feared for the man as he may fall of his seat soon from all the squirming.

"Go on, Beorn, it can not be that bad," said Éomer encouragingly. Inhaling deeply Beorn decided to lay it down straight.

"He would like to offer his youngest daughter to his majesty as wife," he said in one breath. The room went silent. Éomer just blinked at Beorn, not truly comprehending what was said. Youngest daughter? Wife? _His_ wife?

"Your sister? Your father is offering your sister to me?" he said still unsure. Miserably, Beorn nodded. No doubt he had offended his king.

"But why?" Éomer asked. He was truly shocked. One look at Feälef and Helfast and they were stunned as well. It had never been done in Rohan history. Usually the king would be the one _asking_ the guardians for a maiden's hand in marriage.

"Please do not be offended your majesty, he is an old man and being bedridden has done funny things to his mind," said Beorn quickly.

"No, I am not offended, just a little surprised. But do tell, why or what has triggered such a reaction from your father?" he answered. At this point Beorn had gone absolutely pale. _Would it be more disastrous to answer or to not answer?_ He thought miserably.

"Your king asked you a question, Beorn," Helfast said, narrowing his eyes slightly. Beorn swallowed hard.

"Tis only that, my father wishes to … serve a Rohan born queen at least once before he dies," Beorn stammered out. That statement was greeted with tensed silence. No one spoke and Beorn wished he had told his wife and children he loved them before setting off for the meeting, for no doubt King Éomer was going to throw him into the dungeons.

But Éomer was not thinking of any sort of punishment. In fact his whole body had turned to lead for him to think or feel anything. He had always known it but to hear it out in the open, to his face… he just wasn't prepared.

"And what of you Dacre? What do the clansmen of Eowain say?" he asked quietly. Dacre had every intention of lying, even at the risk of dishonor, just so he wouldn't have to see the pallid look of his king when…

"And answer upon the honor of your house," Éomer added instinctively knowing Dacre's intention. Dacre was willing to forfeit his honor but not his clan's.

"There are a few that would wish the same as Beorn's father, your majesty," he answered softly, not looking at his king. Feälef in haled deeply and Helfast gripped the armrest of his chair. _They are fools!_ Helfast thought inwardly. Éomer's face had turned completely ash grey and Feälef's heart cried for his former student.

"Éomer, it is just talk, do not take it to heart," said Feälef. If he gets his hand on Beorn's father, he'll strangle that old man himself, bedridden or not. Feälef knew that old Lord Bergen had never liked the people of Gondor after a skirmish that happened more than three decades ago and had always held a grudge against the past queens, who had been from Gondor. But this… insult, not only on the king, but their guest, was the last straw. How dare he fuel the minds of his clan and other clans of thoughts against Princess Lothíriel? For that was exactly was it was. Feälef was not the advisor to the king and representative of his people for nothing. He knew of the rumors circulating that Princess Lothíriel may be the next queen, and by the way Éomer reacted around her it would have eventually become true. Or at least it would have.

To his left Helfast was thinking the same thing, although his method of "teaching the old man" was completely different that Feälef. His had a lot more blood in it. Honestly, the nerve of that old man. Oh, Helfast was quite aware of Éomer's _I'll only marry a Rohirrim lady_ bullshit but he also knew that it would just remain words, for what he saw of the king when the princess was around confirmed his suspicions that the king was indeed in love with the princess and the feeling was mutual. It was just a matter of days, perhaps weeks when Éomer's inhibitions would break and he would ask Lothíriel to marry him. Personally, Helfast wouldn't mind serving her, for she had earned a high place in his books of respect after the incident with mare, as, he was sure, everyone else in Rohan. _Well, nearly everyone,_ he thought as he glared at Beorn. The poor man was sitting in his seat looking like the world had ended.

The silence continued as they entertained their own thoughts. Finally Éomer, who had slumped in his seat straightened. He no longer looked trouble as his features took on an indifferent look.

"Tell your father, I will consider his offer," he said and promptly got to his feet, completely ignoring Feälef's shock and Helfast's outraged face. He didn't have the energy to deal with them right now. He was going for a ride. He wanted… no, needed to feel the refreshing wind in his face and perhaps clear the cobwebs that had formed within his head. He nodded briefly to Lord Beorn and Lord Dacre before leaving the hall, but as he was about to close the door, he heard one of the young advisors, possibly Lord Dacre's, say:

"I would like to see a Rohirrim on the throne," and the sound of flesh hitting flesh.

* * *

In another part of the palace, Lothíriel sighed wearily as her nimble fingers created another perfect stitch. She had no idea how Éowyn had managed to manipulate her into sewing silver stars onto the borders of her veil. _Ah, yes, it was when she conveniently forgot to tell me her veil was three feet long_, thought Lothíriel, as another perfect stitch was sewn.

So here she was stuck in a hot stuffy room while Éowyn was outside enjoying the sun and fresh air. Ah well, she had agreed to help and though this hovered on the verge of slavery, she'll let it pass. The sound of muffled talking caught her attention and while still sewing, Lothíriel craned her neck to look out the window she was seated by. The window gave her a nice view of the entrance to Meduseld and little snips of the city. A few men were mounting their horses, their faces contorted in a frown and one man was looking extremely angry. She saw also Feälef and Helfast standing nearby and they did not look pleased as well. _Oh dear, what trouble is brewing in Rohan? _she thought with a little dread.

"Your highness is there something interesting outside?" asked one of the seamstresses in the room. Lothíriel pulled back and shook her head.

"No I was just watching the leaving of some men, they do not seem very happy," she added. The lady, Delowen, stood up and walked to the window.

"Hmm, those are the second and third marshal of the Mark. I do hope things are well with the Clan of Eowain and Ethias," she said.

"Clan?" Lothíriel asked. What is a clan?

"Yes. What you see in Edoras is just a handful of the people of Rohan your highness," said Delowen. Another lady, Nalin, nodded.

"You can not see it from here but there are two other smaller cities on neighboring hills, a clan," Nalin continued. Lothíriel nodded. How fascinating.

"And are the people of Edoras a clan?" she asked. Delowen nodded.

"Yes, we are the Clan Mearas, there is Clan Eowain and Clan Ethias," she said.

"And they are the clan leaders?" she asked indicating to the men still standing outside, a small quarrel had broken out. Delowen frowned at this but nodded to the princess's question.

"Aye, the man with the white tabard is Lord Beorn, the son of the Clan leader of Ethias, but is acting in his father's place and the other man in green is, Lord Dacre the Clan leader of Eowain," she said. By then Nalin had joined them at the window.

"You can not see it from here, but on their saddles is their coat of arms. The Crest of Eowain is a prancing white horse between two bound sheaves of grass from which long-swords rise, on a background of green, while Crest of Ethias is a silver fist on red background," said Nalin. Lothíriel looked at them again and nodded.

"And Lord Beorn and Dacre are also second and third marshal of the mark?" she said, slowly understanding their culture. It was so different, in Dol Amroth there were no subdivided groups of people. Everyone was a Dol Amrothian. The two ladies nodded. Lothíriel then remembered having seen the crest describe, mounted on a wall heading towards the throne room. But hadn't there been a third?

How about the third clan? Clan Mearas isn't it?" she asked. Nalin nodded.

"Yes, the Mearas Clan are the people residing here in Edoras, named in honor of the noble breed of horses first tamed by Eorl, we are lead by the king himself and are held in the highest regard by the other two clans," Nalin continued.

"The Crest of Mearas is a galloping horse on green background, is it not?" asked Lothíriel though she knew as she had seen the crest before. Delowen and Nalin both nodded and exchanged a glance between each other. So the princess was not completely ignorant of Rohirrim culture, they thought to themselves. But Lothíriel had looked out the window again, watching the men finally ride away and had missed the look between the two ladies.

Her attention was brought back to the room when the door opened and a third person entered. She bowed to Lothíriel and Lothíriel remembered her being one of Éowyn's serving ladies. Wynen, if she was not mistaken.

"And what brings you here, child?" Delowen asked.

"I would like to help, Lady Éowyn does not need me for now," she replied a little unsure of her westernese, but Lothíriel smiled encouragingly. She felt honored that they would try to master a foreign language for her benefit.

"You are a godsend, for we could use all the help we can get," she said to the young girl waving around the mess in the room. Wynen laughed and happily picked up a piece of cloth that had blue brocade sewn halfway trough it.

"So what news do you bring from the outside world, Wynen?" Nalin then asked.

"This is probably idle gossip, but there is news that Lord Beorn has brought an offer to King Éomer," she said. Lothíriel suddenly perked up at his name, but maintained an outside show of calmness.

"An offering?" Nalin and Delowen asked simultaneously. Wyden nodded.

"Lord Bergen, Lord Beorn's father," she added the bit for Lothíriel's benefit, "is offering his youngest daughter to King Éomer as his wife," she continued. Lothíriel's hands froze in mid air and her insides froze over. Lucky for her, the other two ladies were too busy being shocked to notice.

"What! Has the old man gone senile? She is barely seventeen, and never has such a thing been done!" cried Nalin.

"Why would he do such a stupid thing?" added Delowen. Wynen hesitated a little.

"Speak child!" snapped Delowen.

"Lord Bergen wants a Rohan-born to be queen, and the two clans are showing their support for his cause," Wyden blurted out in her shock at the reprimand. Instantly the room went silent and the three ladies looked cautiously at the princess. But Lothíriel didn't notice, her frozen insides having just shattered into a million pieces. Yes, she knew what Éomer had told her, but she couldn't help to hope, especially when he had nonverbally told her he loved her, she just couldn't but help to hope that perhaps there was a possibility their love would triumph.

So much pain.

"What does King Éomer say to that?" Delowen asked softly.

"He… said he'll consider the offer then disappeared," answered Wyden equally soft. _So that was how it was_, Lothíriel thought. What ever remained of her heart had completely broken. Tears pooled in her eyes but she blinked them away. Pain engulfed her being but she smothered it. She will not show her weakness. She will be strong… and she will be happy. Somehow. She had survived losing Boromir, what was another man? Of course, the pain she felt when Boromir hadn't been this intense, like a knife slicing into her, over and over again, but she will not surrender to it. Her wounds will heal. She was a fighter and most importantly, she was a survivor. She will survive this.

She had to.

* * *

Éowyn just stared between the two of them, not at all understanding what had brewed between them to result in such moodiness. _Had they fought? But what on earth did they fight about?_ She thought. Éowyn had returned from her training to join her brother and friend for their noon meal and was instead greeted with silence as the two sat at the table, not talking not looking at each other.

Where had the morning's teasing and cheeriness gone? Éowyn had tried to strike a conversation with both of them but her efforts were replied with small nods from the princess and/or grunts from her brother. Neither of them were eating either, which she definitely didn't understand as she had polished two plates of food. But that could be because she was extremely hungry from her lessons.

Éowyn looked at her brother from the corner of her eyes, and as if sensing it Éomer briefly looked at her then down again. But that was enough for Éowyn to see the fear and despair lurking in the murkiness of his blue eyes and she was sincerely surprised at that. She would have to remember to speak to her brother later that evening. He may also provide an answer why Lothíriel was sullen as well.

Suddenly, the door leading into the dining hall burst open and Helfast ran in, horror marring his warrior face. Éomer and Éowyn both rose to their feet, their heart beating madly in apprehension. What had happened?

"Your majesty," Helfast panted.

"What is it? Helfast what is it?" cried Éomer urgently.

"Dunlendings sighted just at the border. A whole army of them," Helfast panted. Éomer's face grew stony and his lips thinned dangerously. Muttering an excuse to a horrified Éowyn and confused Lothíriel, he stormed out, Helfast hot on his heels.

"Éowyn what happened?" Lothíriel asked after a few seconds of silence. Éowyn turned her shocked eyes to the princess.

"Dunlendings," she replied much to Lothíriel's frustration. What are Dunlendings?

"Éowyn, elaborate please," she asked desperately.

"Dunlendings are evil, dishonorable men that live to the north of Rohan and have spent years terrorizing our people. They are cunning and attack in the most underhanded ways. More Eorlings have died in the hands of a Dunland than an orc, and now they are preparing to wage a war with us. We shall just have to crush them before they get a chance!" she spat, her once stricken eyes replaced by fury.

Lothíriel was stunned and more than scared at hearing the words. Rohan was under attack where there would definitely be casualties. Warfare was about to begin… and Éomer would be at the forefront. No! He's king; he does not have to ride as well… right?

"Éomer will ride as well?" she asked, afraid to hear the answer. Éowyn gave her a funny look.

"Of course. And I will ride by him," she said and walked away, leaving Lothíriel with her words ringing in the princess's ears. _Of course_, Éomer will ride into battle.

A battle where he may not return.

End of Chapter 11

(6,689 words)


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter Twelve

Éomer pulled his sword belt tightly about his waist, his rising anger causing it to tighten unnecessarily. Normally, Helfast should be there to assist him, but Éomer wanted to leave immediately and would rather his captain ready himself, so they could ride out as soon as possible. Slacking the belt a little he adjusted it properly before turning before the mirror in his room, making sure his armor was on properly. He was about to leave when a soft knock on his door caused him to stop and put down the spear he had grabbed hold. The gentleness in that knock alerted him it was neither his sister nor his captain.

"Princess?" Éomer was incredibly surprised to open the door and see the pale face princess standing before it, nervously chewing her lips.

"You shouldn't be here," he said brusquely, but moved away from the door. Gingerly, Lothíriel stepped in and closed the door partially. Lothíriel stood silently, still chewing her lips, all that she wanted to say, forgotten. Éomer had moved to the window, inspecting with satisfaction that his men were indeed getting ready to meet the enemy.

"Éomer," Lothíriel began. Éomer looked at her briefly then turned back to the window. That didn't do much to ease the nervousness she was feeling.

"Why must you go?" she asked abruptly finally deciding to get straight to the point.

"My country needs me, so I will ride," he answered. Lothíriel nodded.

"Of course, but so do your people. Shouldn't you be here protecting them," she said. Éomer gave her a sharp look.

"If you are worried about your safety, then don't be. I leave behind enough men," he answered. Lothíriel bristled at that. He made her sound like some fearful, sniveling good for nothing princess.

"That was not what I meant," she snapped.

"Then what do you mean, princess, and please hurry, my men are ready," he said, sighing as if he was tired. Nervousness came back to her.

"What I mean is… is that… you…" she stuttered. Éomer closed his eyes and rubbed the bridge of his nose.

"Princess, I have…" he began.

"I'm worried about you!" she blurted out before retreating back into herself, back to chewing her lips. By then she already had Éomer's attention. He looked at her with wonder.

"Me?" he asked and she nodded.

"Yes, you. I know you're a great warrior, but even the best are not spared from the risk of getting hurt," she said softly, and for some reason her vision began to blur. She quickly blinked them back. _Silly Riel, this was a mistake._ She didn't even notice that Éomer had left his place by the window until he stood right before her, his hands resting soothingly in her shoulders.

"If you truly are worried about me, then be at peace, because the Dunlendings are really just target practice," he said. But Lothíriel wasn't convinced. She remembered Éowyn's words about Dunlendings being cunning and underhanded. Who knew what plans people like that could come up with? Éomer easily read the anxiety on her face.

"Lothíriel, look at me. It will all be alright. I'll be back before you even know it, safe and sound," he said. This time she nodded. She supposed he was right. It wasn't as if this was his first battle and he did battle the War of the Rings, a much fiercer and deadlier battle than this.

"Promise me?" she said.

"What?"

"Promise me… that you'll come back safe and sound," she said again. Éomer grinned.

"I promise," he said and they grew quiet when in the distant a war horn was being blown.

"That's my cue, I must go. Come give me a smile, something for me to come home too," he said, releasing his hold of her to retrieve his spear. Lothíriel looked at him, knowing she shouldn't do what she was about to do.

"Nay, I will give you something else instead," she said and grabbed the front of his armor before pressing her lips against his. It was a quick kiss, innocent at most, but it was enough to make him feel lightheaded and a little unsteady on his feet.

"Lothíriel…"

"Say no more, it was a kiss for good luck and if… _when_, you return there shall be another one waiting," she said then in a flurry of skirts and hair, she was gone leaving Éomer alone in the room, dazed on his feet. He remained so for quite some time.

"Your majesty," a concerned voice prodded him out of his trance. He blinked and focused on Helfast who stood before him, worry etched on his face.

"Helfast," he said and quickly regained his composure.

"Are we ready to go?" he asked. Helfast nodded but hesitated to move.

"Your majesty, may I be so blunt?" he asked. Éomer nodded, wondering what was bothering his usually composed captain.

"I don't think we should go into a full battle. Perhaps I should lead an eored first to determine the situation," he said. Éomer raised an eyebrow.

"What are you talking about?" he asked, now clearly confused.

"I just think that it is a mistake to attack full force like this, leaving the city defenseless" he said. Éomer snorted.

"Nonsense. There are more than enough men left behind, and I am tired of having to constantly be aware of the Dunlendings. Let us completely damage their defenses that they can never rise against us again," he said. Helfast shook his head.

"But that's it. They _are_ defenseless! To declare war on us in such an open manner would only guarantee their destruction. This just doesn't make sense," Helfast said. Éomer just grinned.

"Helfast, if you wish to stay behind…"

"I did not mean that. I will ride with you, and you know that!" growled Helfast. Éomer laughed a bit.

"At peace, brother. I know that very well, I was only teasing. Come, no more worries and let us ride," he said and without waiting for any response he pushed pass Helfast and out the door. Helfast shook his head at Éomer's insatiable need for battle before following his king.

Éomer and Helfast almost ran to the main entrance of Meduseld where the men stood waiting, themselves and their horses geared for war. And among the determined men was a lady with equal determination, her armor smaller than the men, but her sword just as deadly. And beside her was an irate princess.

"Éowyn, this is not the behavior of a soon to be Ithilien princess," Lothíriel grumbled, her concern for Éomer and now Éowyn causing her tone to be harsh. Éowyn just rolled her eyes at Lothíriel's disgruntled mother hen attitude.

"It's because this isn't the proper princess decorum am I doing it. Once Faramir and I are married, I may never even see the back of a horse again," she said lightly checking her stirrups as Éomer and Helfast stood talking with their own peeved friend, for Feälef felt very sore at being told to stay behind.

"You will look after yourself right?" she asked, no longer bothering to hide her worry. Éowyn looked at her. She was afraid to make any promises for she knew, as any other warrior, how fickle fate can be.

"Do not worry, I will not be cheated of a wedding night," she said and winked at her. Lothíriel laughed and a little of her apprehension ebbed away. Just then Helena joined them after spending the last ten minutes in her father's embrace. Though she had seen this a hundred times, she was never readily prepared to accept her father and friends riding in to battle. Perhaps it was due to the equal hundreds of time she had to see the very same faces come back cold in death.

"Ai, Helena, what's with the pale face?" Éowyn greeted her. Helena smiled, trying hard to hide her worry but her trembling figure gave her away.

"I wish this weren't happening that's all. I am glad that you will soon be a stuffy princess so it is one person less I have to worry about," said Helena, and then grinned sheepishly when Lothíriel gave her a look.

"I meant no offense, your highness,"

"None taken. In fact I agree with you," replied Lothíriel. She too wished things were different. She quickly snuck a glance at Éomer, who was laughing with one of his men. No doubt the king did not share her fear. They stood in silence for a while longer until Éomer finally cried out it was time to ride. Helena and Lothíriel stepped back safely onto the steps of Meduseld and helplessly watched the men and Éowyn mount. From her side, Lothíriel heard Helena choke back a sob and gently reached out and placed a reassuring hand on Helena.

"It will be alright, Éomer claims these Dunlendings to be naught more than target practice," she said consolingly. Helena let out a sound between a laugh and a sob and nodded.

"I know, my father said the same thing, but I have a bad feeling that I am too afraid to tell anyone. There is a dread clutching my heart and though I have seen it many times, today I am reluctant to see any of them ride out," she said. Lothíriel said nothing but stared at the other lady. Lothíriel knew what she meant. Sometimes she too had ominous feelings to have them confirmed when news of another tragedy has befallen Gondor.

"You should…"

"No, to speak such thoughts would dishonor my father. They are warriors, your highness, Rohirrims laugh in the face of death," she said and smiled a little at this. Their conversation was brought to an end when Éomer rode up to them.

"We leave now, princess, Lady Helena I trust you will take care of our guest?" he said amiably. Helena nodded.

"Of course your majesty," she answered and curtseyed a little. Éomer nodded and turned back to Lothíriel, who still looked a little pale.

"Do not look so whitish, princess, think instead of your promise to me on my safe return, for I will surely be thinking of it," he said and winked at her. Lothíriel went a little red, ignoring Helena's curious look. Éomer grinned and then in an eruption of dust and hooves, they were gone. The city stood in silence, all watching the gates slowly being closed as the last Rohirrim rode out, before returning to their daily routines albeit more subdued than normal. A cloud of uncertainty was hovering above them, blocking out the happy sun.

"My ladies, shall we return to the palace?" Feälef's downcast voice brought the two out of their reverie. Lothíriel nodded and walked away first, Helena placing a comforting hand on Feälef before following after Lothíriel.

The night passed silently, though no one was really asleep, the normal night noise of the city's tavern had hushed and the local drunkards were unusually sober, even they understanding that the time for merriment had momentarily ceased.

* * *

Morning came a lot faster than anyone had expected. Unlike the previous days, Edoras was slow to wake up and even slower to resume its day by day habit, the absence of the Riders more prominent than the day before. Lothíriel too was in no mood to wrestle with anymore fabric and trimmings and had begun to feel the closure of the four walls. Adorning her "Leonine" costume, she went into the city, and though she was no longer anonymous, no one disturbed her more than a polite good morning and this made Lothíriel sigh in regret as she despised the hollow look the people of the city wore. It reminded her too much of her own people during the dark days.

"Hail, Lady of the Horse, and how do you fare this morn?" a sad voice greeted her from behind and Lothíriel turned, glad to see her old friend.

"Elanora, greetings dear friend, but you look awful," she said and went up to hug the other lady. Elanora just smiled weakly at that. She knew she was not looking her best but she had not the heart to make herself more presentable when her brother was god knows where. As if reading her mind Lothíriel linked an arm around Elanora's free arm.

"Where are you headed too? I shall follow you," she said motioning to the basket of flowers that Elanora held under one arm, hoping her presence would at least lift the heavy feeling in her friend's heart. Elanora smiled her thanks and quietly the two made their way to the market where Elanora supplied a seller with fresh flowers to be made into aromatherapy sacs.

"Do you think they are well?" she asked after a while of silence. Lothíriel, a little surprised at the sudden question, smiled.

"I _know_ they are well, King Éomer will not allow harm to come to them, and before long your brother will return," she said.

"I hope your words are right, princess, for though he annoys me with his presence at occasion, I would welcome that annoyance than this deadly gloom," she said and her voice shook. Lothíriel quickly wrapped her arms around Elanora.

"Do not grieve, he will be well and he will return, his only mark probably a swollen ego from his victory," she said and Elanora couldn't help but laugh. It made her feel better.

"Thank you princess for doing this, for helping me get through this," she said.

"We are friends, no matter what our station in life is, and I know should the roles be reversed, I could depend on you," she said. Elanora nodded.

"Always, Princess, always," she replied.

* * *

Somewhere away from the city, Éomer and his men were lingering around as Helfast had finally convinced Éomer of his ill-omened feeling and Éomer had agreed to send several scouts to the reported Dunlendings whereabouts. He paced the barren ground restlessly, still not understanding why he was here when he should be out there where the scouts were, putting a huge and permanent dent on the Dunlendings.

"Éomer, relax and sit!" barked his sister, her mood foul after having to spend a night on rocks and coarse sands. Éomer glared at her, using the opportunity to vent his frustration on her.

"How can I relax when I know my sister, who I may add is getting married, is about to jump head first into battle? Now I must watch mine and your back," he growled back. Éowyn rolled her eyes, having had to hear the same lecture before they left Edoras and during the trip to here, wherever here was.

"Brother, do not start. I am here, deal with it, and I can look after my own back thank you," she snapped back.

"And what am I suppose to tell Faramir when I deliver his bride who is missing an ear, or a piece of her nose, or possibly a few fingers?" he continued having not hear a word she said.

"He will thank you and still marry me," she replied huffily. Éomer snorted.

"He has hair like a girl and blind as a bat, you chose well," he grunted, feeling a small bit of satisfaction when Éowyn colored angrily. She was about to tell him about _his_ choice in spouse, or lack of it, when a thunder of hooves distracted them. Turning to the sound, Éomer saw it was his scouts racing back and their stricken faces did not tell of good news. He ran out and met them halfway. The nearest man jumped of his horse and landed at Éomer's feet.

"Your majesty! It's a trap! They have dressed their women and children as warriors and set up camps but there is not a single man in sight, neither is there any weapons" he cried. Éomer was stunned at the news. All around him no one spoke, unable to comprehend what was happening. Then it dawned on him. They had been duped. The Dunlendings had tricked them. That means…

"Eorlings, to your horse, we must return to Edoras immediately!" he yelled suddenly and swiftly mounted Firefoot. Not waiting for the others, Éomer set Firefoot into a gallop. He had to get back to the city…

* * *

When asked about it several years after, many couldn't say how it happened, only that it did. Lothíriel and Elanora were walking through the city streets when the first attack came. A thatched house at the south end of the city walls suddenly burst into flames. At first no one reacted, all stared at the sight in wonder, the bright red and orange flames growing stronger as it licked the house to the ground. Only when a second fire tipped arrow flew into the city onto another house, combusting into flames did the situation sink in and instantly there were screaming and running, as the city went into panic. More fire tipped arrows, more houses bursting into flames and the more the people panicked. Lothíriel and Elanora were pushed left and right in the panic, each clutching desperately to each other, so they would not be lost in the sea of scared people. Several people fell and vanished in the stampede.

"We are under attack!" Elanora screamed. Lothíriel could only look around her, in complete shock. _How was this happening?_ But she didn't have time to ponder when from the south end, where it had all begun; several figures in black began to climb over the high walls. Many were felled quickly by the soldiers who had taken up arms against the intruders, but there were too many of them and too little of the soldiers. They had begun to climb over the other four walls, letting out ugly sounds as they released more fire tipped arrows into the people and it didn't take long for Lothíriel to realize that they were trapped. They had no where to run, to open the gates would only mean suicide as more of the enemies would pass into.

They had to get back to the palace, Lothíriel thought. Tightening her hold on Elanora, she battled their way pass the screaming people back to the palace. When they got there, Feälef was outside, his sword unsheathed, standing in a line along with others of the warriors. He saw Lothíriel and ran to grab her to safety.

"Princess get inside the palace," he yelled. But Lothíriel shook her head.

"No, we must get the people out of the city! Or else we all will die anyway," she yelled back. Helena had then joined them, she too equipped with a sword.

"But where will we go? There is no where else, we are completely surrounded," she answered. Lothíriel's head spun at that. Helena was right, _where would they go?_ She looked back down at the city, watching the soldiers battle the enemy, forming a boundary between the enemy and the people. Their wall was beginning to break as more men were injured. _Think Riel, think!_

_Sweet Valar! The catacombs!_ The caves, that's the only place that will offer protection, at least until help arrives, for she had a feeling Éomer would find out that they had been tricked. A quick glance told her that the action was mostly on the front ends rather than the back parts of the city. That meant the road to the cave was still open. Another look confirmed this.

"Helena, Elanora listen to me. This is very important. I want you and Elanora to get the people to the back alley of the city. Do you see that road there? Good, get them to run there, I will meet them there, hurry!" she said, her serious tone leaving no room for arguments. Hiding behind the soldiers, Helena and Elanora made their way into the thick crowd, trying to persuade them to follow their lead. Lothíriel then turned to Feälef to ask him to provide cover. But he proved faster than her. Already some men had left the castle steps.

"It is done; the men will cover them as they make their way to the back of the city. But pray tell what is there?" Feälef asked. Lothíriel, impressed by his quick thinking just shook her head.

"Come with me," she said urgently, motioning for him to bring some men with him. Stealthily they slipped pass the enemies and taking the same route she had taken the other day she took them down the jagged hills to the entrance of the cave. The noise of battle had become lesser indicating that danger was still far away at this side of the city.

"Quick, help me open the door," she said and though they were shocked to see the undiscovered area and the presence of a cave no less, neither lost any time doing as she said. By the time the first petrified group came around the corner, the door was big enough to admit them. Trembling they ran into the cave. Lothíriel ran a little more upwards and as well as she could, beckoned them to advance quickly and silently. Soon Helena joined her, with more people behind her, with their pale face and battered bodies, some holding tightly to their children and before long Elanora came into view with the rear end of the people.

"Is there anybody else there?" Lothíriel asked.

"The soldiers, they are holding up the front, but I do not know how long more they will last," Elanora said her voice breaking in the intense fear she was feeling.

"Get in ladies, I must go and assist the men," suddenly Feälef came into view.

"Don't, it is too dangerous," cried Elanora suddenly, her eyes wide with more fear.

"I must, now get in!" he barked and was soon running up the hills, some other soldiers following, but a few remaining. Lothíriel nodded and after pulling Elanora a few times, the three walked into the cave, before two soldiers went to close it. A single torch was burning, giving light to the dark caves but the warmth did nothing to ease the cold fear running through the people as they sat huddled against each other, a child on each knee, some heads bent in prayers.

* * *

Éomer's heart nearly stopped at the sight that greeted him. Even from a distance, he could see clouds of smoke spiraling upwards from around and inside the city walls and the disturbing sound of people fighting mingled with the sounds of screaming. Digging his hooves harder into Firefoot's side, he urged his steed to move faster. From the corner of his eyes he saw Éowyn and Helfast's come up alongside him, they too urging their horses. No doubt the riders were only a second behind him.

It was a cry of fear from the enemies and relief from the Eorlings when Éomer and his men were spotted. Immediately the gates began to open, and the Dunlendings that had been swarming around the fortress began to retreat with haste, many managing to escape into the hills and mountains, but an equal many were slain by the angry Rohirrims.

Releasing a mighty war shout Éomer galloped into the city his sword out and already swinging, its blade making clean slices through the enemy. The return of the king ignited the deflating spirit of the weary soldiers and it wasn't long before the last man was taken down and the battle won. But there was no cheerful cry for the victors as they looked at the damage around them. Smoking houses and roads, injured people being assisted into makeshift healing houses, a steady stream of blood flowing through the city and puzzlement; _for where were the town's people?_

"Éomer, where is everyone?" Éowyn asked, running up to her brother who was looking for injured people and handing them to soldiers to be tended too. He looked up from his search, the thought just crossing his mind. He had been so involved in the enemy, then the wounded, he hadn't realized the absence of any inhabitants.

"I don't know, I…" he didn't finish for at that moment another approached them. It was Feälef, and he was bleeding from his arm downwards.

"Your majesty," he panted heavily, the injury taking up a lot of his energy. Éomer rushed forward and slipped a hand under his advisor to support him.

"Thank you, I may seem to be a little out of practice," he said, smiling a little before cringing in pain.

"No worries, Helfast will be more than glad to remedy that. But tell me, Feälef, where are everyone?" he asked. Feälef was silent for a while, waiting for the pain to subdue the spoke again.

"In the caves, my lord," he answered.

"What caves?" a fourth voice demanded, Helfast having just joined to hear the last bit of Feälef's words. His face was etched with worry for he couldn't seem to find Helena anywhere.

"There are caves under the palace, the people are there," he said. Éomer, Helfast and Éowyn exchanged looks. _What caves?_

"Come I will take you there," he said and moved to stand upright but Éomer wouldn't let him.

"I think not, Feälef, Helfast take him to the healers," said Éomer and Helfast nodded, moving in to take over Éomer's position, though he would have rather gone to the caves his friend had mentioned.

"Follow the back road, and down the path, find the entrance hidden in the wall," Feälef said as Helfast led him away to the healing house. Éowyn and Éomer gave each other another look then followed the instructions Feälef had given them.

* * *

Lothíriel paced the damp floorings of the cave, the sudden silence outside not at all to her liking. She had wanted to go out and see what was happening but was instead ordered to stay inside by the guards, their last line of defense against the enemy. Helena and Elanora were walking around offering comforting words to the survivors, and though Lothíriel tried to help as much as her little knowledge in the language could, it still posed as a barrier. So instead she waited at the entrance, hoping for some news soon.

"It is too quiet, I do not like this," she said, her voice echoing across the stone walls. Helena looked up at her.

"Don't even try thinking of leaving this cave, or I will pin down your skirts with my own sword," she said quickly. Lothíriel sighed, for that was exactly what she wanted to do.

"We are safe as long as we stay within, the enemy may not know of this place so your sudden appearance may alert them," added Elanora diplomatically.

"I suppose you are right," she said dejectedly.

"No, my lady, I know I am right," came the smug reply. Lothíriel was about to reply to that when the stone door suddenly began to open slowly, the sound of rock sliding over ground grating their ears. The cave stilled and the guards immediately brought up their swords, lining themselves between the people and the door, ready for whatever that was too happen. In a move too quickly to be stopped, Lothíriel picked up Helena's sword and took position too. She had never wielded a sword before, but she was sure she could do at least some damage before she was taken down.

They all held their breaths as the ray of light sliding in through the open doors grew wider and wider until it completely shone into the cave. Though they did not want to, the men and Lothíriel couldn't help but close their eyes at the sudden brightness.

"Lothíriel?" a familiar male voice called out.

"Éomer is that really you?" she cried out, opening her eyes, she waited for her vision to adjust. Once it did, she saw that she was indeed right as it was him standing at the entrance, a little dazed as he gazed into the cave, his sister beside him, she too wearing the same look. However, Lothíriel was too glad and relieved to see the two, that she dropped the sword and flung herself into his arms.

"I am so glad to see you!" she sobbed as she clung to him tightly, feeling his arms come around her hugging her back. By then several of the other Eorlings had also made their way to the cave and they too stood staring bewilderedly at the cave.

Lothíriel pulled back from his embrace, suddenly realizing what she had done. She turned to look at Éomer to see if she had embarrassed him as well but he only grinned, looking very pleased at her so she then glared at him.

"What took you so long?" she snapped and he laughed. But she did not wait for his reply as she walked back into the cave and joined Helena and Elanora, who were helping the people move out of the cave under the directions of Éowyn. Slowly, they made their way back to the heart of the city, to the large stretch of land that had been set up as a treatment center. There were many tears, some in joy to be reunited with a loved one and some in grief at the destruction of their homes. Healers moved about frantically trying to screen out the wounded from the not and the vital cases from the stable ones.

Elanora herself had just settled the last of the survivors before she was lifted off her feet and swung around.

"Elleon put me down!" she screamed as she hung on tightly. Her brother laughed and gently placed her on the ground before engulfing her in a bear hug.

"What am I to do with you, sister? I leave you for a while and you nearly get the city burnt down," he replied his tone teasing but it relayed the relief that she was alive and well.

Helena too was lost somewhere within her father's embrace; both had tears streaming down their cheeks. Lothíriel watched both exchange with tears in her eyes. What had nearly been a tragedy had ended in a happy note. And all thanks to Eorl's obsessive love for his horses. She walked around the site, offering any comforting words or gestures that were needed and helping as much as she could.

It was decided that camp would be set up and those who wished could spend the night camped outside. Night guards had been assigned and the city was on full alert.

The sun had begun to slowly descend into the horizons when finally each and every person had been tended too and taken care off. Two soldiers and one old man had perished in the battle and though there were tears for the fallen, there was also intense relief that it had not been more. The bodies of the dead Dunlendings were collected and thrown into a hole outside the city walls, then buried.

"May their restless soul find peace in the after life," Éomer had said softly as the last bucket of earth was thrown onto their grave, then he and his men headed back into the city, the big gates closing for the night.

"How do you ladies fare?" Éomer asked as he approached Éowyn, Helena, Lothíriel and Elanora, who were huddled in front of the fire, watching the last embers of the sun disappear.

"We are fine," Lothíriel answered, smiling at him as he sat between her and Éowyn.

"Speak for yourself, I feel like I have been run over by a stampeding Oliphant," grunted Éowyn.

"You look it too," retorted Helena, then quickly moving away from Éowyn's pinching fingers. Only Elanora was distracted, her gaze constantly falling to the tent where the injured lay.

"He is fine," Éowyn said gently to her. She looked back at Éowyn sharply then blushed a bright red.

"Yes, my brother has too much determination in him to be anything else," she replied quickly then quickly fixed her gaze at a point into nowhere. Now that had Lothíriel curious, for she knew Elleon was not injured and Elanora's shaky voice told those who listened that she had just lied.

"It has been an eventful day today, I will admit, but things have turned out for the best," said Lothíriel.

"No thanks to me, I nearly had the city in a pile of charred wood," said Éomer his voice thick with regret. He blamed himself fully for this event and it weighed heavily on his chest.

"Éomer, for the hundredth time, it was not your fault! You couldn't have known, mistakes happen," said Éowyn, reaching out and folding her arms around Éomer. She knew what lay in his heart and would do anything to ease it.

"No one blames you my lord, in fact we commend you for figuring it out as quickly as you did and returning in time to save us," said Helena and she meant every word. She had helped about and she had heard the talks. No one held Éomer at fault.

"Aye, I agree," said Lothíriel and gently she took Éomer's larger hands into hers and caressed it tenderly. They shared a smile and Éowyn beamed gleefully at Helena. A sudden commotion caught their attention and the five quickly got to their feet.

"Release me! I must thank her! She saved our lives!" a feminine voice wailed across the night. Helena and Elanora exchanged looks then turned to look at Lothíriel. The woman in question burst through the hands holding her back and her eyes fell upon their little group. Holding her hands up she released another moan into the sky, in thanks for the deliverance of the beautiful lady who had saved their town.

She ran up to them and dropped to her knees. Elanora reached down to help the crying lady to her feet but she shrugged off her efforts. Instead an elderly man squeezed through the crowd and bent down to comfort the sobbing woman.

"Your majesty, please forgive my wife, she is still in shock," he said in broken westernese, and though he was addressing his king, he really wanted to inform the visiting princess that people of Rohan weren't crazed, wailing lunatics. Éomer smiled and bent down as well.

"That is alright. It has been an ordeal, for everyone," he said and behind him, Helena nudged Lothíriel, giving her a huge grin. Lothíriel just ignored her and tried to quench her embarrassment. She hoped her deeds wouldn't be blown out of proportion and made to be more than it really was.

"Come, give your thanks and ease your heart and mind," Éowyn said gently and helped the woman to her feet. She wiped her eyes on the sleeves of her blouse and smiled in Lothíriel's direction.

"Thank you, thank you for saving our lives. I have a small boy and he will live to see his next day of birth, because you… because you…" she halted as a sob choked her voice. A crowd had formed around them, and Helena grinned again at Lothíriel and was once again ignored by the princess, who had her head slightly bent. Thank goodness the dark hid her red cheeks, for she could feel the intense heat radiating from it. The woman inhaled deeply and seemed to collect herself once again and continued this time looking Lothíriel straight in the eye.

"Your highness, when you return, I pray to you to sing the bravery of Lady Helena to your people so they may know of her selfless act," she said. The sudden cheering from the crowd drowned the strangled cry of Helena and the horrified gasp of Elanora. And only her many years of princess decorum and discipline allowed Lothíriel to rise to the occasion.

"Of course, _all_ of Gondor shall sing her a song of praise," she replied a smile on her lips, belying the hollowness she felt inside. Of course, how could she have been so stupid? The previous morning conversation with Éowyn's lady in waiting came back to mind. They want a Rohan born to be queen… and Helena was a perfect choice. She barely registered when the woman smiled at her then bent to kiss Helena's hands. By then the shock had settled in and Helena burst into life.

"No, you are wrong… I," she began but was interrupted by Lothíriel.

"You are too modest," she said with a fake laugh then reached forward to hug Helena. But in her ears she whispered, "do not contradict me, your people have been hurt enough this night, do not upset them more, and that is an order!"

"Éomer, I hope you realize how fortunate you are to be in possession of such a lady," said Lothíriel turning to Éomer who was still a little stunned. He could have sworn it was Lothíriel that the woman was speaking off. How could he have so wrongly misjudged? He hastily recovered and smiled at Helena, whose face had turned a sick green, which was conveniently camouflaged by the dark night.

"I am now, and I thank you as well, Helena, I am in your debt," said Éomer. Helena tried to smile back but it came out forced and crooked.

"Thank you, your majesty," was all she could come up with as her mind was swirling with incomprehension of had just happened.

"Your debt? Éomer, I'm sure you can offer more than that," Lothíriel said, raising her eyebrows suggestively to him. Her hint was immediately backed up by the city people who began to applaud and somewhere in the back; someone was beginning to hail the new queen of Rohan. However, at that point Éowyn decided to step in. All this talk of queens was worrying her especially when she knew something was a miss, besides the fact that Helena looked like she about to croak frogs.

"I think it is time we all got some sleep for the day has been long and tiring," she said loudly. A nod of agreement floated through the crowd.

"Aye, tomorrow we shall begin to rebuild the city and your homes then at night a celebration shall be had in honor of our Lady Helena," continued Éomer. His words were greeted with much joy and slowly people began to disperse back to their tents or bedroll.

Elanora quietly slipped away, first to check on Elleon then she too would retire when a hand gripped her shoulder.

"Why didn't you help me tell them the truth? Why did you allow her to lie?" Helena hissed. Elanora shook her head.

"It is not my place to say anything and much less to disagree with the princess. I am sorry Lady Helena, but my lips are sealed till she thinks it's wise for the truth to be revealed," said Elanora. Helena glared at her for a while then sighed.

"So what happens now?" she said despairingly.

"Well, I would suggest you start designing your wedding dress, my lady. Good night," she said then left leaving Helena standing there her eyes wide like saucers. A _wedding dress?__ Oh what had she just gotten herself into?_ A pair of thick arms engulfed her from behind and without turning she knew it was her father. Finally someone who can tell her what to do with this mess, and help her tell Éomer the truth. Rohan already had a queen candidate, and it wasn't her.

"Daughter, I have just heard the news, and I am so proud of you, your mother would have been so proud," her father whispered hugging her tighter. She turned quickly to set her father right, but when she looked into his eyes she couldn't do it. He was so proud. His eyes shone like stars and looked positively happy. Helena didn't have the heart to tell him the truth. Instead she folded her arms around him and hugged him back, in her mind she knew she would be punished by the gods for her cowardice. And no, her mother would not be proud at all.

* * *

The next morning, the city had regained its lost bliss, and though the destruction was more evident in the daylight, the despair had gone with the night and there was much singing as soldiers and peasants, noblemen and stable boys worked together to restore the city.

"You wouldn't have thought it was only yesterday these people were scared for their lives," said Lothíriel happily looking at the men working, their bodies covered in a thin layer of sweat and their golden hairs glinting off the sun's rays, as she and a few other ladies helped in setting up the noon meal. She refused to clutter her mind with any sad thoughts, not when everyone else was in high spirits. Well, nearly everyone. Elanora had chosen to assist elsewhere while Helena had chosen to glare continuously at her. As she was doing still. Lothíriel sighed and turned to face her. She had tried to ignore it but it was proving to become more difficult.

"Stop giving me the evil eye, it's no use for I won't change my mind," she said softly not wanting anyone else to hear.

"Well you should. You are lying to my king and indirectly involving me as well," Helena replied.

"I am not lying! Did you or did you not assist in helping the people yesterday during the attack?" she asked hotly. Reluctantly Helena nodded.

"So where is the lie?" Lothíriel asked again.

"The lie is in you allowing the people to believe that it was all my doings! You were the one who thought of getting the people into the caves; for Eorl's sake, you were the only one who _knew_ of the caves, _I_ was just following orders," she said, trying hard to keep her voice down.

"Ah, but that issue never arose, dear Lady Helena, only that lives were saved, which was thanks to you, as you lead them to safety and not about who discovered the caves," Lothíriel pointed out. Helena let an unfeminine growl the turned back to the preparations. Gone unnoticed was Éowyn who had silently watched the two from a far, though not hearing the words, but her suspicion that something was not right had become stronger. And since Helena would not say what was wrong and Lothíriel would not admit that anything was wrong, Éowyn would have to figure this out herself.

Shortly after, a loud horn blew across the city and slowly the men stopped whatever tasked they were doing and headed back to the open grass area where the tents and bedrolls had been replaced with tables bearing foods and drinks. Lothíriel was among the ladies who helped serve the hungry men and had tactfully positioned herself away from Helena, in an attempt to evade the Rohirrim lady's death glare.

"Princess, your father will have my head if he saw you performing such menial work," Éomer said as he walked up to her for his serving of hot soup. Lothíriel laughed at that but her cheeks flamed a little at seeing his naked torso. He was indeed as beautiful as she had imagined, but enough of that. Now wasn't the time for such thought.

"Nonsense! If the King of the Mark can remove his shirts and work alongside his people, then surely a visiting princess can at least serve the soup. Besides, he will probably thank you for putting some humility into his spoilt daughter," she replied with a laugh. Éomer shook his head at that.

"I have many spoilt ladies, princess and you're not one of them. You wouldn't have done what you did if you were a spoilt child," he said softly and Lothíriel felt her insides chill. She will kill Helena if that brown haired vixen dared to tell on her. But looking at Éomer's face, she knew he didn't know anything.

"Your majesty if you are talking about the attack yesterday, I'll let you know that the most I had done was to obey orders and stay within the safety of the caves. Lady Helena was the one responsible for everything else," she said.

"I suppose you are right. I am holding up the line, I shall speak with you later princess," Éomer said and Lothíriel felt a sense of disappointment coming from him. But she quickly shook the feeling away and served the next person in line. A sudden shudder passed through her causing her to look up straight into the eyes of Old Mad Daroth. He smiled menacingly at her and saluted her with his mug. She quickly looked away but her heart continued to race. That man really gave her the creeps.

Éomer walked towards an empty seat opposite Helfast and Feälef. As he approached the men started to stand up but he quickly stopped them and sat down by his two friends without much ceremony.

"Hail, King Éomer," Feälef greeted his king, looking comfortable despite his injured arm tucked neatly in a sling. His face was dirty with grime and his smile full of satisfaction. Whether it was because of their victory, the rush of adrenaline that came with manual labor or having emerged victorious in a heated debate between him and the healer on why he _should_ be out there helping rebuild Edoras, one could not say.

"Greetings friends. How does your arm fare, Feälef?" he asked. Éomer hadn't been pleased to see Feälef in the heat of the building despite the counselor's avid affiliation that he was well and Éomer and Helfast were just waiting for Feälef to slack a little before hauling him broken arm and all back to the healing house. So far he had not granted the two the pleasure of doing just that.

"It is well, as I have mentioned a million times to our dear captain here," said Feälef smugly eating his broth. Helfast growled.

"I told you we should have bound his arms and legs when he was still unconscious," Helfast said. Éomer grinned at them. Middle earth would soon freeze over the day Feälef and Helfast agreed on anything.

"You know what your problem is, old friend?" Feälef asked suddenly, turning to Helfast. Helfast stopped eating and looked back at him, an eyebrow raised.

"What?"

"That orc spear wedged up your ass. You really should get it removed," said Feälef and returned to his food. Éomer nearly choked on his soup trying not to laugh. Helfast's eyes narrowed but there was an unmistakable twinkle in it.

"Would you wish me to tell you off your problem, _old friend_?" he asked in return. Feälef shrugged.

"Not really, but if you insist."

"I do. Your problem, O' Great Counselor, is your virginity," he said. This time Éomer did choke on his soup before letting out a big laugh. Feälef had turned to Helfast, his face red like a ripe tomato. Helfast was playing with fire. To question a Rohirrim's sexual prowess was as good as signing one's death certificate.

"I am not a virgin! I've had my share of… women," Feälef spluttered regretting that he had not decided to strap his sword around him.

"If you say so, Counselor," Helfast said without conviction.

"You are lucky my arm is injured or I would so gladly wrap it around that thick neck of yours," Feälef growled. And it would happen, at that moment, while Feälef glared daggers at Helfast, Elanora came up with an offer to refill their mugs.

"Counselor are you ill? Perhaps you should have the healers have a look at you," Elanora said, a little concern at Feälef's red face, which incidentally had become even redder.

"No, I am fine," he mumbled. She looked at him a little longer before bowing slightly to Éomer and moved to refill other mugs.

"Do you want to know what I think, Feälef," Helfast said after she was out of hearing range.

"No! Keep it to yourself," Feälef snapped, his face forming a scowl.

"Well, I do. What _do_ you think, Captain Helfast?" joined in Éomer, enjoying Feälef's increasing rosy parlor.

"No, honestly, your majesty, you don't especially want to know of Helfast's thoughts. I mean one would need a brain to be able to think, which clearly Helfast does not have," said Feälef quickly. Éomer's grin grew and Helfast chuckled at that.

"If that is so, then the presence of a thought would indicate the existence of a brain so shouldn't we encourage Helfast's newly acquired brain?" said Éomer winking at his smirking captain. Feälef had nothing to say to that. "Continue captain,"

"Thank you your majesty. I was thinking that perhaps if our dear counselor here would actually make an attempt to engage in a conversation with the beautiful Miss Elanora instead of staring at her googly eyed from behind a thick book, then half of his problems would be solved," said Helfast.

"Helfast you are the spawn of an orc, do you know that?" Feälef hissed, shrinking deep into his seat. But Helfast was not done.

"_And_, if he would grow a spine and actually _ask_ her to marry him, then the other half of his problems would be solved and he would hence be problemless," Helfast said finishing with a sweep of his hand, as if he had found the answer to life's many mysteries. Éomer couldn't help but laugh even louder. _Who would have thought that the ever reserved, calculating, grounded Counselor of Rohan was afraid to speak to a woman? _

"I am impressed. There is finally a being out there who can render our eloquent counselor speechless," guffawed Éomer.

"Your majesty, you are as bad as he is," Feälef grumbled, having nearly disappeared under the table.

"Feälef, honestly, you are taking this the wrong way. We, as your friends are only concerned about your miserable and lonely life and marriage can be a beautiful thing. It definitely has its perks," said Helfast seriously and smiled as he looked at his daughter a little away from them.

"I am happy as I am," Feälef protested but Helfast shook his head.

"Only because you do not know better. Quills and parchments are cold bed partners, _gehola_," Helfast said. Feälef didn't respond to that. He had no inclination of starting anything that may further mortify him. Éomer too had stopped laughing and instead began rubbing his chin, a thoughtful look on his face.

"Speaking of marriage, I think I have finally found my queen," he said effectively ending any more disagreements between his two friends.

* * *

Day slowly began to fade into night and no one seemed to show any signs of tiredness despite the busy day. If possible, the excitement level increased a few notches and the sound seeped in through the half closed window into Lothíriel's room bringing a small smile to her lips. It was all she could manage right now, as she prepared herself for the evening feasts. She truly did not understand this deep sense of regret that seemed to weigh heavily upon her heart. She had done the right thing, it was no secret what lay in the hearts of the Rohirrim and she should be proud that she had delivered it. Perhaps it's because it came at such a high price, she thought. _High price?__ And what would that be?_

"The high price that now Helena and Elanora aren't speaking to me. Losing ones friends is always a high price to pay," she told her mirror. It just stared back at her, not at all convinced. Sighing deeply, she placed the last clip into her hair and inspected herself. She looked presentable and wore the style of her own people, a dress with a high waist and flowing skirt. The color she had picked was a soft yellow and it matched nicely with the flowers she had placed in her hair.

A knock on the door put an end to her scrutiny and she went over to open it. Feälef smiled at her.

"Good evening, your highness, you look very beautiful. His Majesty has asked me to escort her highness to the feast, if she is willing," he said bowing slightly. She returned it with a curtsy, doing well to hide her surprise. She won't hide it that she had expected Éomer to escort her to the feast. _Perhaps he is preoccupied_.

"She is very willing, Lord Feälef, for any girl would be honored to be escorted by such a handsome knight," she replied with a smile.

"You are too kind, your highness," he said and extended his good arm to her.

"How is your injury healing, my lord," she asked as they made their way towards the Grand Ballroom, which was already full of people drinking and singing.

"It is healing well, your highness, hopefully the bandage shall come off soon," he replied and she nodded. They continued in silence until they reached the great doors leading into the ballroom. He led her to her seat beside Éowyn before taking his seat beside Helfast.

"Good evening, Lothíriel," Éowyn greeted her with a smile.

"Good evening Éowyn. It has been a while since I last saw you, where have you been," she asked. Éowyn rolled her eyes in disgust.

"Where else, but in the clutches of that ogre woman pretending to be a seamstress," growled Éowyn. Lothíriel laughed at that.

"Well, your wedding is less than ten days, you know, and there are still things we need to prepare," she reminded her. At that Éowyn's face grew dreamy.

"I know, ten awful, dreadful, horribly long days. Why can't it be tomorrow?" she said despairingly. Lothíriel just shook her head at that. Sometimes Éowyn's abrupt mood swings confused her. But she didn't have to ponder long for at that moment a blast of fanfare rang through the air. People began to stand and Lothíriel followed Éowyn's lead and stood up as well. The doors opened and in walked Éomer. On his arm was the lady Helena. Lothíriel thought she sensed Éowyn stiffening but a quick glance to the lady showed no changes. _Must be my imagination_, Lothíriel thought then returned her gaze to Éomer and Helena walking towards their table. As they approached, she bobbed into a small curtsy, but all the while, her insides were in chaos. Such an entrance could only mean one thing. But Lothíriel would not ponder on that. It had nothing to do with her.

"Greetings people of Rohan," Éomer greeted as he stood at his place. Helena quietly went to stand by him. Her father was on her other side. With much pains Lothíriel tore her gaze away from them, the sight ripping into her guts. _But this is what you wanted, so get over it_, her sensible side scolded. She felt an acute sense of dread when Éomer opened his mouth to speak. She nearly placed her hands over her ears, not wanting to hear what she knew he would say.

"My people, there are no secrets why we are all gathered here tonight. We are all here, safe and well, and it is all thanks to this wonderful lady who stands by my side tonight, Lady Helena daughter of Captain Helfast. She has shown us why she is the daughter of Rohan's most skilled warrior, when she displayed tremendous bravery and astuteness in thwarting the evil plot of the Dunlands with her quick thinking in bringing our people to safety. For this Rohan and her people and king owe her a debt of gratitude, so tonight we shall honor her, Lady Helena, we shall drink to her health and we shall celebrate her existence, for she is indeed a blessing to us all," said Éomer and the crowd burst into cheers and claps. He raised a hand and the room quietened.

"On behalf of my people, I thank you Lady Helena for what you have done," he said. Helena who had remained quiet till then, smiled nervously.

"It isn't a burden to serve my country, your majesty," she said softly. Éomer smiled and picked up his goblet, raising it before him. His actions was copied by every one else.

"To her health, and may the gods bless her three times fold and shine on her always. To Lady Helena!" he cried.

"To Lady Helena," the people echoed and heartily drank. As for Lothíriel she wanted to sing and dance and laugh out loud. The sudden elation was so overwhelming; she was all but knocked back into her seat. _Helena was the guest of honor! It made complete sense now! That's why she was there by his side! That's why he didn't escort me, he was escorting the guest of honor,_ she thought happily. A part of her just shook its head, _you are a confusing girl, Lothíriel, you don't know what you want,_ it thought.

The rest of the night was splendid. She didn't even care that Éomer hadn't spoken more than two complete sentences to her. She was too busy soaking in the feeling of joy and relief to mind. All her previous regrets and desolation were forgotten. Even when she caught Old Man Daroth staring at her with the same evil malice as the morn, she simply brushed it off. She ate all that was given and chatted happily with Éowyn and others seated by her, stating how bright and beautiful that particular night was. And when Éomer stood once again, tapping his goblet lightly to gain attention, she looked up at him, her faced etched with concentration, determined not to miss a word he was about to say.

"My people, do you fare?" Éomer asked and was answered by loud cheering.

"Wonderful. I have one last thing to mention, before we may call it a night. People of Rohan, it is with great pleasure that today Captain Helfast gave me his permission and blessing to wed Lady Helena. My people, behold, your future Queen," he exclaimed loudly and the room erupted in mind deafening applauds and cheers. But within that noise, Lothíriel only heard breaking.

Within that space of mere seconds, the beautiful illusions she had created shattered into a million pieces.

Somewhere in the back of her numb mind, she just about made out the sounds of a scuffle and the shouts of the palace soldiers. But she had not the energy to be concerned. She needed all the energy she had to make it back to her room.

She never knew how tiring pain could be. There wasn't a bone in her body that didn't ache; there wasn't a beat in her heart that didn't sting. Even breathing was painful. Now regretting having declined an escort, Lothíriel realized how nice it would be to have someone to lean on as she dragged herself back to her room. But a million escorts could never ease the hurt. That was hers alone to bear and bear it she will. She eventually arrived to the doors and smiled at the thought of the warm bed behind the doors. She was deeply hoping that a goodnight sleep would give her some peace of heart, and ease the numbness. Right now, she was too numb to feel any emotion and she did not want that for she feared if the lack of feeling did not go away, she'll never be happy again. She pushed the doors open and walked in.

She knew the minute she walked in that she was _not_ alone. However any attempts to escape was thwarted by a huge figure suddenly grabbing hold of her and any effort to scream were effectively stopped when a large cloth was pressed against her face. The sweet smell of chloroform was the last thing that registered to her before it all went black.

End of Chapter 12

(9,974 words)


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter Thirteen

The sound of voices, one raised in anger, stirred her out of her slumber. _Why are there people fighting in my room?_ She thought sleepily. She raised her hand to grab a pillow but when she felt the restraining force of the coarse rope, she jolted up, instantly awake.

"It's not a dream," she breathed softly. She really had been attacked in her room. She had been kidnapped! Her eyes scanned around the dimly lit area, but besides finding out that she was kept hostage in a large tent and that she had slept on a thin mattress with several bundles of cloth, she saw nothing else. But she heard a lot. And one of it was the angry yelling that had awakened her. She tried to get to her feet, but they were bound tightly as well. To crawl out would be futile and she didn't know what was outside, it could be worse than sitting quietly in the tent. So, she pulled her knees against her chest and looped her bound arms around them and waited.

She didn't have to wait long, for no more that minutes after she had awaken, the flap of the tent was pushed aside and a man walked in. For while he moved around and did not notice that she was awake. Lothíriel took the time to look properly at her captor… or one of them, she thought fearfully. He was tall, and had blond hair but it had darkened tremendously, to match his brown skin. He was awfully thin and his movements were somewhat sluggish. And when he turned to look at her, she saw his eyes were ice blue.

"Ah, you have awakened. Did you enjoy your sleep?" he greeted her cheerfully, somehow missing the fact that she was tied up and a hostage.

"Release me" Lothíriel hissed. The man laughed and moved to her. She visibly shrunk away, scrunching smaller into herself. He sat in front of her, still smiling.

"I realize this may be a little… different, that what you are accustomed too, but you see this is crucial to achieving my goal," he said. Lothíriel glared at him.

"What do you want from me? What do I have to do with your goals?" she asked. The man pursed his lips, thinking.

"Actually, nothing. But it seems that my stupid henchman messed up and kidnapped the wrong lady. He was supposed to kidnap the Rohan queen," he said. Lothíriel gasped at that. They meant to kidnap Helena!

"You bastard!" she sneered. He wasn't perturbed by her words and remained smiling at her.

"I am what I am," he said. "Now that we've established who I am, let's discuss who you are."

He didn't know who she was? What kind of a kidnapper was he? She was just about to tell him to go and spear himself on his sword when the flap of the tent flipped open again and a body was thrown in. the man turned away from Lothíriel,

"If you would excuse me," he said then got up and walked to the other person, who was still lying on the ground. He grabbed the man's hair and yanked it hard. Lothíriel winced at the painful yelp the other man let out.

"Tell me, you filthy swine, does that look like Lady Helena to you?" he asked the man. Painfully the man got to his knees and looked properly at Lothíriel. Lothíriel let out a horrified yelp. It was Old Man Daroth!

"Are you two well acquainted? Good, tell me who this is?" he barked at Daroth. Lothíriel felt a spasm of fear, for if he found out she was indeed a princess, he may become more "ambitious". But then she remembered Daroth can not speak westernese.

"She… Éomer love… queen of Rohan," Daroth stuttered. Lothíriel's blood froze over, he _can_ speak westernese. Her captor shook his head.

"No she isn't. Lady Helena is the future queen of Rohan. You were supposed to show the men where her room was, not this foreign wench," he said. Anger surged through her at being called a wench but she wisely kept it in. Daroth shook his head.

"No… you said Éomer's love. He loves her… not wench… princess… Dol Amroth," Daroth stammered some more. Daroth had either missed the announcement or had been too drunk to listen properly and had assumed Éomer was to marry Lothíriel. The silence was thick enough to be cut with a knife. But Lothíriel soon found his tongue.

"He is lying, he is drunkard, and what would he know? Éomer loves me not, and he is betrothed someone else," she cried, shocked of the pain in her heart as she said the words.

"Besides how can you be sure he is telling the truth?" she tried again. Her captor snorted at Daroth who was shaking his head vigorously.

"The man is too drunk to think much less concoct such a lie. Nay, he is telling the truth" Daroth visibly sighed with relief. Lothíriel, however did not share the same feelings.

"A foreign princess? Well, it would seem in searching for glass I have come upon a diamond instead," he said and dropped Daroth's head. He then yelled some command and soon a burly man entered and dragged Daroth out.

"I have heard stories of the city by the sea. So you are Imrahil's youngest daughter. How wonderful. Éomer is in love with a foreign princess, but can't marry her. How delightfully wonderful," he said, rubbing his chin. Lothíriel could nearly see the nuts and bolts churning in his head.

"With you, not only will I have Rohan but Dol Amroth as well," he said thoughtfully.

"What! Never, you overestimate yourself, my father would never comply with your wishes," she cried. He just laughed at her.

"He'll have to if he wants his daughter in one piece," he replied, an idea already formed in his head. Smiling lazily at her he reached out to touch her cheek. She quickly turned away, rejecting his touch.

"You'd best learn to tolerate my touches, princess, because once I claim Rohan, you shall be my wife, then your father can not afford to deny me anything," he said. Her eyes widen at that.

"I will never marry you," she said, her lips curled in a sneer. He just laughed.

"Yes you will," he replied and gripped both her upper arms with his hands, his nails piercing into her skin. She tried to scream but was cut off when he caught her lips in a kiss.

"ARGH!" he screamed, pulling back, his lower lip bleeding. Lothíriel glared at him, tasting his blood between her lips, satisfied she had done well to injure him, but feeling that it wasn't enough, she spat on his face. Instantly his cheery countenance was replaced with anger and hatred. Gone was the man who walked into her tent and in his place was a horrible monster. He wiped the saliva of his face and with the same hand he dealt a jaw cracking blow to her chin, not matching to his thin frame. Her head snapped back dangerously at the impact, and physical pain like never before seared through her.

"You will learn some manners when you reside in my home, princess," he hissed, grabbing her injured chin, causing more pain to throb across her face.

"You will learn also humility," he continued and yanked her to her feet. He removed a dagger from a side pouch and aimed it at her. _Oh god, he's going to kill me,_ she thought and closed her eyes. But she opened it again, when she heard the sound of cloth ripping.

He was tearing her clothes! She tried to wriggle away, pleading at him to stop, but her squirming was met with nails dug deeper into flesh and her cries were received with more painful blows. He only released her when she was clad only in her under dress. She shied away from him as his eyes roamed hungrily over her.

"You are a beautiful maiden ready to be made into a woman, and I am just the person to do it," he said evilly. She tried to run, but her binded legs prevented any movement. And her whole body ached from his blows that she didn't have the energy to resist when he pulled her back to him. But at that moment, a man walked in and said something to her captor. He nodded curtly then waited till the other man had gone before turning back to Lothíriel.

"It seems this shall have to wait till my victory becomes real. But that is alright, I am a patient man, I can wait till then," he said then with one great push, he pushed her back onto the pile of cloths and thin mattress. His cheery façade had returned.

"Enjoy your stay, princess," he said and in three strides was out of the tent. Lothíriel waited till he was completely gone before burying her head in the mattress and giving way to the tears.

* * *

Two days had passed since one of Éowyn's ladies had reported that Lothíriel was missing. The entire Mark had been searched and there were no signs of Lothíriel or her kidnapper, as Éomer was now convinced that Lothíriel had been kidnapped. He had personally scouted the perimeters of Rohan, resting little and eating even less, but as the other search parties, he came with nothing. Standing at the highest point of Meduseld, he scanned the horizons, hoping against odds that he would spot her familiar raven tresses. 

"Éomer, come inside," a feminine voice from behind him forced him too look away from the crowds below him.

"Helena, I must find her. How can I explain to Imrahil that I have lost his only daughter?" he said, his voice hoarse with the lack of energy and food. Helena moved closer to him and placed a consoling hand on his arm. Éomer had turned back to look before him.

"Éomer, I am sure she is fine. Hurting yourself like this will not bring her back any faster. Come inside, eat a proper meal and rest, for more than two minutes, and try again tomorrow. Who knows, tonight Lothíriel may just waltzed in and we all can have a good laugh over it," she said trying to make her voice uplifting and chirpy, but like Éomer, her heart was gripped with fear. For all her occasional recklessness and disregard for rules, Lothíriel was not stupid. She wouldn't disappear into the night, especially after such an attack. Deep inside Helena knew something was wrong, but she wouldn't tell that to Éomer. He was worrying enough without her to add on to it.

"I will grab a slice of bread if that will cease your nagging, but do not ask anything more from me," he answered bitterly and although his words stung her, she didn't ponder on it. He was worried, and rightfully so. Sighing softly, she waited for him to walk pass her towards the palace before falling in to walk behind him. They entered the dining hall to see Éowyn, still garbed in her tunic, her sword placed idly by her seat, already seated at her place, her eyes staring blindly at the feast before her. Her already pale face was even paler and her gold hair contrasted strongly against her skin. Éomer in turn, grabbed an apple and walked to one of the windows overlooking the city.

The silence was thick as the two siblings entertained their fear wrought thoughts and Helena just shook her head at them. But she too had not the appetite to eat any of the splendid food, her own thoughts filled with worry for the princess. The silence continued for a time until suddenly the great wooden doors of the halls burst open with a resounding slam. Three pairs of eyes turned in shock towards the figure standing in the middle of the doorway, his eyes scanning for his sovereign. Éomer stepped forward, in his shock was still speechless.

"My lord, my lord…" Helfast panted rushing towards him. His blue eyes were dark with panic and anger as he handed a piece of parchment to the king. Éowyn and Helena jumped up from their seat and stood beside Helfast. He did not turn to his daughter's imploring eyes. Instead his eyes were fixed on the king, his face contorted in anger.

"It was found tied to an arrow on the stable doors," he said with such bitterness, but Éomer's eyes were busy flying over the scrawl of black ink on the frayed paper. When he was done, he turned his eyes onto the three people before him. Helena involuntarily took a step back at the fury in Éomer's eyes. His blue eyes were nearly black and his full lips reduced to thin lines. Even his hair seemed to have darkened a shade. His posture was stiff and straight back as his strong fist threatened to reduce the paper clutched within it to mere dust. Never has Helena felt such wrath emanate form anyone with such force. Why, he was nearly trembling in his attempts to withhold his temper.

"Ready my horse, we ride. I will teach those bastards they have messed with the wrong king," he said his tone low with vengeance. Helfast nodded for he had read the letter and he too was fueled with much rage and was gone within seconds. Not looking at the two ladies, Éomer strode out of the hall, his steps echoing with purpose. To shed the blood of the men who would dare to take something that was his. Éowyn reached down to pick up the crushed paper, Éomer had just then dropped. Uncrumpling it she read the words. Helena stood over her shoulder, trying to read it as well. The words caused her to exclaim in anguish.

**_We have your precious princess. If you want her alive, ride to the Gap of Rohan. There the score shall be settled and past wrongs will be righted. _**

At the base was a print of a wolf head, the mark of the Dunlendings.

* * *

"My lord, do you think he will come?" came the meek voice of the man, trembling in the shadow of his master. His master, in full armor, sat proud and tall atop his steed, his men waiting patiently behind him. He turned his black eyes to the slender figure of the princess, slumped tiredly against the body of one of his men and his cruel lips twisted in satisfaction. 

"He will come, for if it isn't his love for her, then his pride will forbid him to deny us an audience," he replied malice ringing in his laughter. The chilling sound caused his hostage to turn her stormy blue eyes to him, her lips curled in disgust. But he was not perturbed. He had the upper hand and by tonight those stormy eyes will be glazed over in lust and the lips will be screaming with pleasure… in his bed.

His horse stamped in frustration of standing still so long, and he reached down to pet the animal. His horse, a half-bred stolen from right under the nose of the Rohirrims, neighed in return.

"Patience, my beauty. It won't be long now, and soon you shall enjoy the warmth of a stable and the succulent juice of ripe apples and hay, not the filthy food we have been forced to feed you in Dunland," he whispered, the last bit with bitterness as his mind pictured the poverty of his people, the hunger and deprivation they had to suffer, while the undeserving Rohirrims lounged about in their wealth. Wealth that he had been cheated out of. But he will soon fix that, and it will be their turn to suffer, just as his people had. His stupor was disturbed as a scout came running up towards him.

"My lord, they are here," he cried. The proud fallen lord nodded and raised his hand in a motion to follow him as he rode out towards the Gap of Rohan which today, shall behold the falling of a proud king and the rise of a new one.

* * *

With almost angry actions, Éomer checked his saddle, making sure the stirrups weren't too loose or the reigns too long. He had no need to do so, but old habits moved him to do so anyways. Beside him, Éowyn was doing the same. 

"Éomer," Helfast said as he walked up to the king. Éomer turned a pair of angry eyes towards the captain.

"Éomer, do not let your anger cloud your mind. Do not strike until the princess is safe," he said.

"Do you take me for a fool, Helfast?" Éomer snapped. And only would such fear would cause him to act like so towards a trusted friend.

"I do not take you as a fool, but I have seen you when you are angry. This no normal battle, Éomer. Someone's life depends on your very own actions. We do not know what the wretched Dunlendings are capable off," he stated, and it was only years and years of training and discipline allowing him to retain his calmness despite the anger bubbling within him. Éomer inhaled deeply trying to find some calmness.

"Aye, your words are true. I ignored your words once, Helfast. I will not repeat the same mistake. Very well, I will assess the situation before I slit their throats," he said and without another word he mounted Firefoot. Éowyn followed and then Helfast and soon his men too had mounted. Not wanting to take the chance in leaving his city unguarded, Éomer had decided that only his eored will ride with him, the other riders would stay back, with Feälef in charge. This time the counselor did not voice any objections in remaining behind.

"Do not act unless on my orders, and watch your backs. Dunlendings are not born with any honor in their body," he said to them, sent a curt nod to his counselor and betrothed and rode off in a cloud of dust, his men and sister, not far behind.

Feälef and Helena watched the riders ride off and her insides churned with turmoil. This was all wrong. She was wrong. When they returned, which she knew they will, the princess safe and sound in Éomer's arms, she will end the charade. _Please, sweet Eru let her be alright and allow me to fix this misunderstanding_. She pulled her shawl tighter around her and moved towards to Éomer's study, not knowing at all what she and Feälef were going to write in their letter to Prince Imrahil.

Éomer brought Firefoot to a stop as they entered the Gap of Rohan. Many battles had been fought on that very ground, and many Rohirrims had been laid to rest within the soil. It was not overly sure, but many had speculated that the absence of any growth in that area except the coarse, thin grass was due to all the blood spilled that seeped into the ground, damning it for all eternity.

Éomer warily watched the approaching men, one of them on horseback, the others on foot. He tried looking between them, but there were no signs of her. Around him, he sensed his men tensing up, their spears and swords ready for action, as the enemy advanced closer towards them. Eventually, the leader, the man riding the horse, which Éomer noticed with resentment was a Rohirrim breed, stopped before him, and in a mocking gesture bent low in a flourished gesture over his horse.

"Where is she?" he demanded cutting straight to the chase. The man before him broke into a mean grin.

"My king, will you not ask how my people fare? Or has your barbaric ways given way to manners completely?" he drawled, taking joy in the increasing redness of Éomer's features. Éomer started to move towards the offending man, but Helfast held him back. The man watched it with wry amusement.

"Its best you take heed of your captain, we wouldn't want an accident now do we, especially towards your princess," he said. Éomer gripped his reins so hard his knuckles whitened.

"If you have hurt in any way, I swear I will…" Éomer began but the man cut his words, his amused countenance replacing by anger.

"You are in no position to threaten me, Éomer. If I were you I would choose my words wisely," he snapped. Éomer just glowered at him. In the end Éowyn spoke up.

"Cease with your treacherous games, sir. Introduce yourself and then explain to us why you have taken our guest as your hostage," she said, less callous that Éomer, but with equal severity.

"I could never resist a beautiful lady. Very well, I am Wolfe, the great-great grandson of our great leader Frecá, rightful leader of Rohan, but had been cheated and killed by Helm Hammerhand," he said loudly. The Rohirrims were stunned for a moment before Éomer burst out.

"Your type are not worthy to be stepped on by a horse much less rule them," he snorted in derision. Wolfe bristled at the insult; his once calm face was now red in uncontrollable anger.

"You forget what I hold, and if you do not wish to explain her death, I advice you to be wary of your words," he growled. Éomer glared at him.

"Where is she?" he asked again. Wolfe raised a hand and to his side, the men parted revealing a burly man with wiry beard and in his arms was Lothíriel, so weary that she stumbled continuously in her steps. By the side of her lips was a big patch of blue black.

"Lothíriel!" Éomer cried out at her state of tattered clothes, messy hair and most of all the bruises on her exposed arms and face. She turned to him and tried to smile, her eyes still full of spirit, even though her body was not. Éomer turned his angry eyes to Wolfe's.

"This is between us, Wolfe, she has nothing to do with it," he said, his chest heaving heavily. He was glad that she was alive but that the filthy bastard had dared to hurt her. He would pay for it with his blood, Éomer swore to himself. Wolfe reached down and trailed a finger across her unbruised skin, and Lothíriel pulled away in disgust. That action nearly caused Éomer to throw caution to the wind and slice the hand right off the bastard, but he suddenly realized that her captor had a dagger pressed against her stomach.

"True. I must admit, that she wasn't the one I was targeting. In truth, it was supposed to be the Lady Helena," he said and Éomer heard Helfast inhale deeply at the news. Wolfe grinned broader.

"Aye, if my minion had not be so stupid, that would have been your daughter," he sneered, and in the back shadow of the horse, a figure trembled.

"But all is not lost. With the princess in my care, a tie with Dol Amroth will do well when I am king," he said his smile becoming larger. Lothíriel spat at the feet of his horse.

"My father will never succumb to a weasel like you and king Éomer will never risk the safety of his people. Your plan is fruitless," she yelled at him. He just gazed down at her.

"I shall enjoy the challenge of breaking your spirit, princess, and trust me I will when I bed you tonight," he said. Éomer let out a hiss but the sharp blade against Lothíriel's stomach prevented him from doing anything.

"State your demands, Wolfe," he snapped, his tone straining against his clenched teeth.

"It is simple, and I do not even ask you to risk anyone, but yourself. I realized that against your strength, my men are overpowered, so instead of wasting their lives and perhaps even mine, I have decided to take an alternative route," he said.

"Get to the point, man," Éomer growled harder. Wolfe laughed.

"Very well. Relinquish your crown to me and officially proclaim that you have stepped down and that you have granted kingship to me, and your men shall swear loyalty to me so I do not have to look over my shoulders every time," he said. The Rohirrims let out a gasp of disgust.

"You are crazy. Give up while you still can, foolish man, for king Éomer would never do such a thing," Éowyn cried. Wolfe let out a cynical laugh.

"Is that so, princess? Is she right?" he turned to face Éomer. Éomer was silent. His eyes kept on going back and forth between Wolfe and Lothíriel who was shaking her head vigorously.

"You will release her, alive, I if do as you command?" he asked finally. Uproar was heard from his men, but he held up a hand to silence them. He didn't know why he was doing this, but just the thought of Lothíriel cold in death, when he could have easily prevented it gripped his chest till it hurt.

"Éomer, you can not be serious?" cried Helfast. Éowyn was silent as she saw the emotions running through her brother's face. She knew he was torn between duty… and love. How considerate of him to realize he loved her now, she thought wryly.

"What would you have me do? Let him kill her and face the fury of Dol Amroth and Minas Tirinth sweep over us, where more of my people will die!" he bellowed back. No one said anything as they realized the truth of his words. They were strong, but with the joint efforts of Prince Imrahil and King Elessar, Rohan did not stand a chance.

"NO! NO! You are wrong! My father would never go to such extreme and neither will King Elessar! They will never blame you, Éomer, do not give in to him, please," suddenly Lothíriel cried out, her voice croaky with deprivation of water. Éomer just fixed her with sad eyes.

"You can not read what is within your father's heart, or how he will react. And he has made his point when he left you in my charge. I must, Lothíriel. I can not let you die, my heart is not strong enough to endure such a loss, and my people have suffered enough." he said dejectedly. He couldn't believe what was happening, but he had to do. His people could not stand another war. They were still recovering from the last one.

"Fine, I shall announce my abdication and name you next king," he said, his tone flat and emotionless. His men dropped their heads in despair and Éowyn couldn't stop a tear slide down her cheek. A chorus of cheers rose from the Dunlendings.

"I do not care, but what will happen to me?" Éomer asked Wolfe. A malicious grin spread across his face.

"You shall be executed," he answered. Lothíriel let out a horrific scream.

"Éomer, no! Please do not let him win, please, fight him! Rohirrims take up your arms against the wretched Dunlendings," she cried looking imploringly at the passive Rohirrims, her anger turning to sobs as she imagined him dying. Doesn't he understand that her father will understand his position and the choice he should have made? Lothíriel believed strongly that Imrahil would not hold Éomer responsible. No one moved a muscle and Éomer just shook his head.

"No, if that is my fate, then I shall endure it," he said. Éowyn reached out and placed a hand on his arm which he took in his big callused ones. He did not look at her; he couldn't bear to see her cry.

"No, this is NOT your fate!" Lothíriel cried out again. Wolfe laughed.

"And what can you do?" he asked, looking at her with the tolerance of an adult to a child. Lothíriel inhaled. Oh, she knew exactly what to do. Her body may be beaten and weary but her mind was still sharp. Even though her arms were held tightly by the guard, she straightened her back, and tilted her head regally at him.

"Rohan shall not serve a false king, and I will be the one to bring ruin onto your head Wolfe," she said and in one swift movement, she raised a foot and brought it against the knee of her guard. The man stumbled nevertheless remained a firm hold on her arm. But Lothíriel did not mean to run. Instead she grabbed the dagger from his loosened grip and plunged it deep within her.

"If I do not live, no agreement shall be made. You have lost," she said with a final effort before falling to the ground in a puddle of her own blood.

There was an intense quietness engulfing them as all eyes focused onto Lothíriel's bleeding being, her limp body falling slowly onto the ground, even unconscious her actions were graceful. The tension was so thick that one could taste it, its vileness tainting the tongue. It was so silent that the gentle thud made by her falling limbs thundered through their ears, the ugly sound of flesh meeting ground.

And with that sound ringing through his ears, amplified a hundred times over, Éomer felt something within him snap. Never had he felt such emotions, not anger, or rage yet all that at the same time. Throwing his head back, he released the loudest, ugliest and most terrifying cry to ever be made by man. Éowyn covered her ears against the hideous sound and tremors of undefined terror ran through the men, whether he be foe or friend. Even Helfast who had rode with Éomer since the beginning felt fear of hearing such a beastie roar. And Éowyn knew no King of Wraiths could ever match the horror that rose from her brother's throat.

As for the enemy, they just watched in stunned silence as Éomer rode forward his sword slicing through the air. Only when the head of the brute that had held the sword in Lothíriel's stomach went flying across the sky to roll at the feet of Frecá's heir, did they realize the mistake they had made. A strangled cry rose from them as they attempted to run but the sound was muffled by the thundering of Rohirrim hooves. Their decision to flee came too late and soon the ground was littered with dead bodies many of them slain by the King of Rohan himself in his anger, he no longer knew the meaning of mercy. And when his angry eyes spied the traitor, lost amongst the fight, his old and dirty self trembling, Éomer rode out to him and Daroth barely registered the presence of the king before his body was cleaved cleanly into two parts, and Éomer rode away to fell another enemy. The man he intended to kill was nowhere in sight.

Until then.

Wolfe had fallen off his horse but to give credit where it lay, the man had not given up. As it was, he was furiously colliding blades with Helfast. In the fury of the chaos, Éomer saw only him and knew that by his sword only would the bastard die.

"Go," he said, dismounting his horse and walking up to them. He had no fear of a stray blade finding its way into his flesh. The gods would not allow that, he knew they meant for him to battle with Wolfe. In their shock, the two men stopped and stared at him, the battle momentarily forgotten. But Helfast saw the look in his sovereign's eyes and knew it had to be done. He bowed and stepped away from the other man, and took up position to guard Éomer's back. But that wasn't necessary. Their enemy had been a meager number to begin with. And now there was none left. Except Wolfe.

"Enjoy your last moments," Éomer growled. Wolfe had no doubt of that, but he'll die fighting. There was always honor in that, no matter what side one fought on.

"I shall send your regards to the princess when I see her," he replied smugly. Yes he will die, and it would be well to remind the king that he won't be traveling to the after life alone. Fury rose once again within his body and Éomer no longer felt the need for talk. Without warning he dealt the first blow, his blade neatly counter attacked by the other man. He dealt another and another and another. Never did he relent his aggressive position, constantly making sure he was the one to deal the hits but Wolfe did well defending himself.

Wolfe fought well and bravely, but this was not his battle, though it would be his last. Éomer was fueled by his hatred and pain, the image of Lothíriel falling, her shirt drenched in blood doing well to stimulate Éomer's anger and maintain his stamina, but Wolfe, grown in improvished lands, grew tired and without much dramatics Éomer dropped the final strike sending Wolfe's head clear into the sky.

But the sight of the disfigured man did nothing to alleviate the anger within him; her bleeding body was still swimming in his mind. Raising his sword once again, he began to vehemently hack the already deformed corpse, hoping that it would lessen the lead feeling in his heart. He tried to break free when Helfast made a grab for his arms, not satisfied enough with the damage he had done. But Helfast held forth and eventually Éomer lost the energy that had fueled him and despair replaced the feeling, weakening his limbs. He dropped to his knees, and leaned against the hilt of the sword, the cold steel doing nothing to take away the heat of his tears.

"Come, it is over," Helfast said softly, bending as well to offer his support to the man. The other soldiers had begun to collect the bodies for burial, doing well to not notice Éomer's plight. Éomer suddenly missed the gentle touches of his sister and wondered where she was.

"Where was Éowyn?" he asked, dread clutching his already wounded heart.

"She has ridden back to Edoras with the Princess's body. There may still be hope," said Helfast softly. In his earlier rage he had not noticed Éowyn gather Lothíriel onto her horse and rode back to Edoras along with three other men.

"Is there? Hope?"

"Always, my son. Always."

* * *

But by the third morning, hope was beginning to look frail. The sun rose on that third day as it had the other two with its first rays falling on the distraught king as he paced the floor outside the room where his best healer's worked to revive the princess. The injury had been stitched and healing well and due to Éowyn's quick thinking and riding, she had been spared much blood loss. But despite all the good news Lothíriel remained unconscious. Their only hope now lay in the arrival of Imrahil, which would be anytime soon. This was not something Éomer was looking forward to either. Imrahil had trusted him with his daughter and he had let his friend down. 

"Éomer, come and eat," his sister's pleading voice broke into his thoughts. He turned at looked into her anxious blue eyes. She was another person he had let down. Her wedding was supposed to be in four days and she… they, were supposed to begin preparation to ride to Gondor day after tomorrow. But now…

"I am sorry, Éowyn," he said. At least she was awake to hear him say it. He had been repeating the words to Lothíriel whenever the healers would let him see her, but there wasn't a flicker of response to show if she had heard. Just silence.

"There is nothing to apologize, brother. You have not wronged me," she said gently.

"Aye, I have. Your wedding…"

"Can wait. I have sent a message to Faramir, he will understand," she answered but her words were of no comfort to Éomer. Neither was the hug she gave him then, though he responded heartily to it. But then Feälef approached them.

"My lord, Prince Imrahil has arrived," he said and with no more words, he and Éowyn rush to the main door of Meduseld, not really knowing what to expect from the Dol Amroth prince. The said entourage arrived at the base of Meduseld just as Éomer exited the doors to the outside to greet them. Ai, Elphir had accompanied his father. This can not be good.

"Imrahil…" Éomer began but was cut short.

"Later. Where is my daughter?" was the brisk reply.

"Follow me my lord," Feälef took over, seeing the upset look his king wore. Imrahil nodded and followed the counselor into the palace. Elphir on the other hand stood before the king. Éomer met his gaze head on; ready for the tongue lashing no doubt he would receive. This made him unprepared for the fist that came instead, knocking him clear off his feet. He shook his head to clear the confusion of the sudden attack, and to allow the pain to subside, both in his face and backside. He looked up at the fuming prince, who didn't seem to care that twenty of Éomer's men were aiming the sharp tip of their spears at him. Éowyn was kneeling before him, peering into his surely bruised and bleeding face.

"Does that make you feel better?" he asked scathingly. Elphir remained silent then held out a hand. Éomer looked at it warily then decided to give him the benefit of the doubt and placed his hand in it. Elphir helped the bruised king back to his feet without any more histrionics.

"No, but it's a start," was the reply as the prince held out a white cloth for Éomer to wipe the steady flow of blood from his cut lip. Seeing that there wasn't any serious threat to their king, the Rohirrim's lowered their spears, but kept a cautious eye out on the foreign visitor.

"I shall take you to your sister," Éomer said and Elphir only nodded. He followed silently behind the royal siblings as they took him through the twisted maze of Meduseld to where his sister lay.

When they reached her room, Imrahil was bent over her, a hand softly caressing her pale face, talking to her in a tone that only a father could do. Elphir quickly moved to the other side and planted a kiss to her cheeks. The father and son remained like that for some time, not saying anything as they sadly looked at the woman lying on the bed, the only indication that she was still with them was the soft rise and fall of her chest. After a while, Éomer and Éowyn began to feel like they were intruding. But when they tried to leave, Imrahil stopped them.

"How?" just one word. Éomer turned to him, horrified that tears had begun to prick his eyelids. He swallowed hard the told them the story. When he was done, Elphir had his face completely buried in her neck and Imrahil leaned against his chair.

"She gets it from her mother side of the family," he said and began rubbing his temples. Éomer didn't understand what he meant but didn't ask any questions.

"I'm sorry," he apologized again. For Eorl sake, what else could he do _but_ apologize? Imrahil stood and walked to stand in front of Éomer, only then noticing the fresh cut on his lip.

"How could you have known? You were willing to risk your own life and the future of your people because of her," he said. Éomer shook his head.

"But she… I mean…" he tried to say that it had not worked, she was still hurt, but he couldn't say it.

"She is a princess, and she has been brought up to understand that the people's need prevail over the need of one individual. Do not blame yourself," he said and engulfed Éomer in a hug. Imrahil hugged Éomer as he would one of his sons. With all the fatherly love and pride he had within him. He didn't blame Éomer, no; there was enough guilt in the younger man that Imrahil saw no need to add more.

To his horror, Éomer, who had forgotten what it felt to be hugged by a father figure, began to cry.

They stayed that way till Éomer's tears were spent and his chest no longer heaved with aching sobs.

"I wish to take her home. Would you ask your healers if this is advisable?" he asked. Éowyn, who too had tears streaming down her cheeks hastily wiped them away.

"I shall ask," she said and was soon gone. The three men remained quietly in the room, their eyes and thoughts fixed only on the maiden that lay still before them. Éowyn returned shortly later.

"They say her wounds are closed, so there is no fear of them reopening and bleeding but how will you carry her home?" Éowyn asked.

"There is a carriage outside to transport her home with the least of movement," Elphir said this, his face still partially buried in his sister's neck. He shared his father's sentiment that no one was to blame in this situation. Who was to say what he would've done had it been him in Éomer's place, so it would be unfair to judge the Rohan king so harshly. Besides his point was already made known by the cut on Éomer's lip. No need for anymore animosity.

"We shall leave now," Imrahil said moving back to his daughter.

"I shall get the maids to load her luggage, and prepare some nourishment for you to take with you," said Éowyn and she quickly left the room to make all the necessary preparations for the Dol Amroth's departure.

"In the meanwhile, Imrahil, why don't you and Elphir have something to eat? I shall have them brought here, there is no need for any formality," said Éomer waiting for Imrahil's agreement. Imrahil looked at Lothíriel for a while; he really wanted to make a start so they would reach Dol Amroth as soon as possible. But then he saw the tiredness in his son and knew that the few men who had ridden hard with him were also suffering similar fatigue so a little rest and food would probably do well for all of them.

"That would be fine, Éomer," he said finally and Éomer set about ordering food and drinks to be sent to the room. He would've supervised the whole thing himself but he did not want to be away from Lothíriel anymore than her father and brother did. He would not dwell on the thought but there was a sense of fear in his mind that this would be the last time he saw her in his home.

Éomer was quiet as he bid them goodbye. No unnecessary words were exchanged as Imrahil felt enough time had been wasted. He didn't assist in carrying Lothíriel's body into the carriage. He didn't even leave the steps to look onto her pale face one more time. He didn't even blink when Imrahil turned briefly to wave at him before he entered the carriage to sit with his daughter's lifeless body. He stood at the steps of his palace long after the last rider had exited the gates. But the loss he felt was not his alone to bear. Lothíriel's sacrifice for Rohan had traveled fast and far. Her name never left the lips of the Rohirrims, her deeds the topic of every conversation, and her health in all their prayers. The people of the Mark began to see her in a new light, and grieved to see her depart for home, still unconscious.

* * *

But closer to home, unwavering yet gone unnoticed in the past days, was Helena. She had been a silent spectator, quietly standing by the sidelines as she watched and prayed with everyone else for the recovery of the princess. No one knew the truth still of the extent of Lothíriel's sacrifice for this country that wasn't even her birth place, but as she watched the Dol Amroth princes ride away with their swan princess, she knew the truth must be made known. No longer was she willing to carry the burden of that secret in her heart, on her mind anymore. If the people grieved now, then they shall weep in regret for what they have truly loss. Helena would not be a pawn in this twisted game anymore. Éomer shall know all of what Lothíriel has done for his country and if he does not ask her to marry him even after that, then Helena would skew him with his own sword. 

She hesitated for a moment before raising her hand to knock against the study door. Éowyn, whom she had told the story to earlier, had offered to accompany her. But Helena knew this was something she had to do herself.

"Come in," came the muffled reply from within. She knew who was in the king's study even before she pushed the door open, for she had spent the last hour monitoring the room until she was sure only the three people she wished to speak to were in the study.

"Good eve, my lords," she greets her king, his Chief Counselor and Captain of the Mark. Helfast removes himself from his seat to meet his daughter for a hug. Helena clings to him for a second longer, savoring his warmth for she wasn't sure if he would ever touch her again after what she had to say.

"What brings you here, Helena?" Éomer smiled at her, feeling somewhat a little guilty. She was his betrothed but he had spent his days neglecting her completely. Feälef simply smiled at her, but he took note of the intense fear in her eyes. And unless his eyes betrayed him, she seemed to be shaking a little.

"I have something I wished to tell you," she said a little uncertain, and some words caught in her throat making her squeak. Helfast and Feälef exchanged looks.

"We shall leave then," Feälef began to pack his stuff but stopped when Helena shook her head.

"No! Stay, please. My words are for all you to hear," she said. Once again Feälef saw the raw fear in her eyes and began to worry. _What has happened?_

"Would you sit?" he asked beckoning to a chair, but she shook her head again.

"No, my words come easier standing," she said. The three men exchanged looks, apprehension filling their own hearts now as they watched the maiden compose herself.

"It is about the day Edoras was attacked," she began slowly. The men visibly tensed at that, and Helfast, who had taken a seat jumped to his feet.

"They did not do anything to you did they?" he asked, feeling a sudden cold all over.

"No, no. it is not about me, father. Nothing happened to me because I did nothing," she said quickly in one blur.

"I do not follow Helena," Éomer said after a while. Helena inhaled deeply then tried again, slowly this time.

"I was not responsible for the safety of our people. I was simply following orders from Princess Lothíriel. _She_ was the one who lead us all to safety. _She _was the one who knew of the caves and it was her quick thinking that saved us all. I… did nothing but follow orders," she said and tears began to sting the back of her eyelids. She didn't want to cry. She just wanted to say what she came to say and receive whatever punishment that came her way. But it would seem the stunned silence of the three men were worse than any penalty. Feälef was the first to recover.

"But why didn't you say this earlier? Why didn't you correct that woman?" he asked. This time tears flowed swiftly down her cheeks.

"Because Lothíriel told me not to. She forced to promise that I would not tell anyone. I wanted to… so badly but she made me promise," Helena sobbed. Immediately her father's arms came around her holding her tightly.

"Father I am so sorry. I have disappointed you, I am so sorry," her sobs became more violent as she clung harder to him.

"Shhh, my pet. I am not disappointed," he cooed softly to her, kissing her hair as he stroked her back, trying to console her tears. It took a while for her to calm down enough to face Éomer. Éomer had moved away from them and was staring pensively out the window, not really thinking of anything, just remembering when life used to be much simpler. Wake up, kill orcs, have something to eat, kill more orcs, return home, get drunk, pass out then repeat the whole process again. So much simpler.

"Your majesty?" Helena's shaky voice brought him back to the present. He turned to look at her teary eyes.

"Will you forgive me?" she asked. Éomer nodded.

"Yes, I forgive you. You did what you thought was right at that time and I am not angry, just sadden by it all. She has done so much and it has all gone unthanked," he said softly.

"There is still time, my lord. You shall see her again at your sister's wedding and you could thank her," she said. Éomer snorted.

"After the carelessness I have shown, I doubt Imrahil, or any of his sons will let me anywhere near her," he said wryly. His hands flew up to the wound on his lips. It still hurt bloody murder.

"Then I shall take them on to allow you passage to sneak by them," she said with determination. They may think she jests, but she knew that if that is what it took then she will do it. This whole folly has gone on too long. Hadn't she promised Éowyn that she would help get Éomer and Lothíriel together? Well, she intended to keep her word.

"You are a good person, Helena. Rohan will benefit well with you as their queen," Éomer said with a laugh. He was still sad but the image of small Helena taking on Imrahil's towering sons was quite funny. Even Feälef and Helfast grinned as the same image ran through their heads. But Helena was not smiling.

"Your majesty, please do not take this personally, but I wish to break off our engagement," she said, this time with no tears. Another shock silence filled the room.

"You do not wish to marry me?" Éomer asked very much surprised. She shook her head.

"Helena, child…"

"No father, I have made my decision. For one thing I will not live in the shadows of a woman who truly deserves to be queen and second, my heart… is no longer mine," she said her voice dropping slightly as she said the last bit.

"Are you saying another man has stolen you heart?" her father asked in shock. She nodded but remained looking at Éomer. He did not seem upset, just surprised and she knew she had made the right choice. They worked well as friends but anything more would just mean a lifetime of misery for both of them.

"And who is this man? Does he deserve what you give him?" Helfast asked again seeing that he was the only one who had the tongue to speak at present. Helena bit her lip at this question and turned to him.

"Well, father, he does not know he owns it, as I have not made myself obvious to him but only a few insignificant times. In fact I do not know if he even remembers my existence," she said ruefully.

"Ah, so he is not of Rohan born?" Feälef asked, finally finding some useful words to use. Helena shook her head.

"No, he is of King Elessar's court," she said, which was truthful enough. Helfast opened his mouth to say more but Éomer beat him to it.

"Then, if that is where your heart lies, dear Helena, I release you from our promise, and wish you all the best," he said and hugged her.

"You are not angry, your majesty?" she asked suddenly unsure. Éomer shook his head and smiled.

"No, I am not. To pursue this matter would be unfair to both of us," he replied and meant every word of it. Somehow Helena's independent decision of her future made him rethink his. With all that she had just told them, he no longer had any reasons to not pursue his own dreams. He just hoped it wasn't too late.

End of Chapter 13

(8809 words)


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter Fourteen

As all this was taking place in Rohan, in Dol Amroth, there was a different kind of hush all over the city as the people gathered outside the steps of the palace, some devastated, some bewildered and some in disbelief, but all diligently offering prayers that their beloved princess would wake up. The only sounds heard in the city were the mournful songs that rose from the coastlines, the sad tunes carried gently by the winds. The sky was barren and grey, the sea empty and lifeless. The beloved swans and ships that inhabited the sky and sea to a point it had somewhat become a permanent fixture of Dol Amroth instead lay quietly in their respective waterfronts, seeming as if they too had fallen into a deep slumber with their princess. Three sunrise and sunsets greeted the quiet city, each dawn bringing new hopes only to have them cruelly dashed with the setting of the sun.

Inside the palace, in a room facing the great vastness of the sea, similar prayers were ushered, as four nearly identical raven heads bent around the bed where the lifeless princess lay. They prayed day in, day out, during high tides as well as low tides, eating was too much a chore to perform so hence was temporarily forgotten. For Imrahil, history was repeating itself again. His beautiful wife too had lain motionless in their bed, the steady rising and falling of her chest the only indication that she was still with them. But that too, one cold frosty morning, had stopped, and she had left him and their children. And now, his precious daughter was threatening to join her mother and he was helpless to stop her. No amount of begging or holding her hand would make her change her mind should she decide to take that final step.

Pain clutched his old heart and a muffled sob filled the silent room. He wanted to comfort his sons, he wanted to pull all three of them into his arms, onto his lap and reassure them, tell them it was alright, things would be fine, especially Elphir who had been old enough to grieve the death of his mother once and perhaps now his sister and would no doubt be affected the worst, but how could he when he couldn't offer comfort to his own heart? His own mind and soul? How could he dry their tears when he couldn't stop his own from streaming down his cheeks? He did not deserve to be forsaken by the gods in such a manner. He did not deserve it!

But the sun set for the fourth time and with it the hopes of the prince that today would be different.

The sun rose again for the fifth time, and as usual, its rays crossed the horizon without much fanfare, slowly pushing the night away, and dimming out the stars. It was so like the other four sunrises in appearances that no one noticed at first the subtle changes. Imrahil had returned to his seat by his daughter, gently caressing her forehead, willing her to return to him. His three sons remained on the other three corners of the bed, tunics rumpled, hair messy, eyes red with lack of sleep and each sported a stubby rough beard. Neither of them noticed anything.

Suddenly, Amrothos stood up, a look of awe on his face.

"Do you feel that?" he asked his voice coarse with lack of use. The other three turned to him.

"Amer, what is it?" Elphir asked tiredly. Amrothos raised a finger to silence him and furrowed his brow, like he was concentrating hard on something.

"You do not feel it?" he asked, his tone getting louder. Erchirion, who had remained by his side rose to stand by him.

"Amer…" he began the he too stopped. The brother's exchanged looks, wonder in their eyes and, could it be? A little bit of hope as well.

"The winds have shifted," Erchirion said. Imrahil looked up at them. His sons were right. The wind had shifted and was blowing into the room, ruffling their hairs and the edges of the bed. With a show of energy that had been lacking these past days, Amrothos rushed to the window and leaned so far out, Erchirion had to grab hold of him to prevent him from toppling out. There was a smile on his face.

"The birds. The birds have graced our skies once again and the sea is no longer grey and lifeless. Look!" he beckoned to them. Elphir and Erchirion acquiesced to his request and true enough, there were swans flying gracefully in the sky and the sea was a shade of orange, red, yellow, blue and green, the surface sparkling like liquid diamonds under the new sun. It was like a veil had been lifted off their eyes allowing them to once again see color. The three brothers exchanged joyful looks then turned to their father and saw that the same anticipation blossoming in their hearts taking root in their father's eyes as well.

The sun rose steadily for a few more hours before the greatest news was delivered by one of Imrahil's councilor.

King Elessar and Queen Arwen have just passed into the city walls.

Ignoring the fact that he was hardly dressed in a state to greet his king, Imrahil rushed out to the steps to greet the arriving monarchs. Little words were exchanged between the two, and Imrahil just barely registering that Faramir was there as well, before taking King Elessar and Queen Arwen to his daughter.

Imrahil had not been present when King Elessar had healed Éowyn and Faramir and was not aware of the true power involved. Now, as he sat by Lothíriel, both hands clutching her limp ones in almost a desperate plea, he watched in amazement as King Elessar, who had Lothíriel's other hand, chant softly, his eyes closed, and his face was calm. Arwen had placed both her hands on her husband's shoulders, she too chanting softly. Imrahil couldn't tell if it was the sun's rays or the healing power itself, but a thin band of golden light began to frame the two sovereigns. He watched as the thin band moved to his daughter's frail form and began to outline her as well. And when the band reached the hand enclosed so tightly in his, Imrahil felt a jolt rush through his body, hitting him so hard his eyes blinded. But he could feel. And what he felt was his daughter's spirit in his hands.

"Father…" he heard her call softly and knew what he had to do. Using all his strength, he wrapped his fingers around the essence in his hand and pulled as hard as he could, feeling a sudden impact hit his chest forcefully. His eyes snapped back into focus and… he couldn't stop the chocked sob from escaping him as he returned the pressure from the hand that tightly gripped his own.

* * *

Lothíriel had been awake for a total of six days already, and though she was slowly beginning to regain her strength, her father insisted she remain in bed, a request which she gladly accepted, as she wasn't completely ready to let go of her father and brother's constant fawning over her. Simply said, she was having a wonderful time recovering. At that moment however, she was alone as her two younger brother had resume border patrol and Eli and her father were caught up with matters of states, leaving her to sort through the many letters and gifts that had yet to stop arriving, all of them well wishes from her people. Sighing happily, Lothíriel draped a shawl of midnight blue with silver trimmings across her shoulders, a gift from the city seamstresses and read the note that accompanied it. Somehow she would have to find the time to reply the large stack of letters she had received or perhaps once she was feeling better, she would personally thank them. Her musings was interrupted by a knock on the door.

"Come in," she said tentatively, hoping it wasn't the healers again to poke and prod her and give her nasty tasting herbal tea. Instead of the elderly lady in a white apron and bonnet, it was her father.

"And how are you feeling today, Swan?" he asked dotingly, dropping a kiss on her forehead. She beamed up at him.

"Much better now that I have seen you," she replied and he chuckled lightly.

"Is it?" he arched an eyebrow and she nodded vigorously, widening her eyes in which she knew was nearly angelic.

"Oh yes. I do not think anything could make me feel any better than I do right now with you here," she answered, already imagining the sweet chocolate coated strawberries that would be accompanying her lunch as it always does with such compliments. Imrahil, who was quite aware of his daughter's buttering up tactics, just flicked her nose gently.

"We'll see." He said softly. "Come in, boy!"

Lothíriel gasped. And it wasn't because of the basket of lilac wild flowers that was so many it was brimming over the top and completely hiding the upper body of the holder. Or because of the green ribbon with the insignia of a white horse used to tie the flowers together. It wasn't even the brief glimpse of familiar gold hair. No, what really held her attention at that moment was the pair of hide boots, worn out with well usage, a pair of boots that she had seen so many times, especially when her head was bent low trying to hide the blush from his teasings. The pair of boots she had seen him take off several times at night in exchange for a pair of soft slippers before he settled before the fire with her and his sister.

"Éomer?" she couldn't dare to hope. That had been the only thing that she could not bring herself to ask in the days she had been awake and no one had offered any news. And now… and now, he may be right there standing right in front of her. The man staggered a little under the weight of the basket before dropping it roughly at the foot of her bed, dislodging some of the lilac petals. But she didn't notice any of it as she gazed transfixed at the familiar blue eyes, which right now were lit like a blue flare.

"Lothíriel," Éomer breathed, his voice choked. He couldn't believe she was before him, alive and well, her cheeks flushed and her complexion no longer pale and gaunt. Overwhelmed by the sight of her alive, Éomer forgot Imrahil's presence and rushed forward to wrap his arms tightly around her, burying his face in her hair, grateful to be able to once again smell the floral freshness that he had long ago associated with her, to be able to hold her in his arms and should she slap him for his boldness, then that too he will savor.

"Alright, alright, boy, that's enough. Release her before she has a relapse," Imrahil's dry tone broke the two apart.

"Yes, sir, sorry," Éomer mumbled humbly, giving Lothíriel a small smile which she shyly replied. He then took one of the seats by her bed and the three were quiet for a while, Lothíriel playing with the hem of her shawl, Imrahil casually looking out the window but once in a while shooting sharp looks at Éomer and the young king just looked uncomfortable. He appeared to open his mouth to say something but the he'd feel Imrahil's piercing gaze on him and clam up again. This happened a few more times before Lothíriel released a sigh of frustration.

"Father, you do not have to remain here. I am sure there are other important tasks that you must attend to," she said looking at him, a sweet smile on her lips. Imrahil frowned.

"No, this arrangement is fine," Imrahil said. The smile turned to a small pout.

"Father…"

"I shall be outside," he growled, casting one last glare at Éomer before walking out. Now that they were alone, Éomer's rigid composure relaxed visibly.

"Sorry about that," Lothíriel said then went beet red when Éomer reached out and took hold of her hands.

"I am sorry, Lothíriel. For everything. For hurting you, for … being the reason you are here in this state," he said, looking deep into her eyes, his own beseeching for forgiveness from her. Forgiveness that she so willingly gave.

"Do not apologize, sweet king. What I did, I did on my own free will, and no one, especially you should take blame for it," she replied softly, dislodging a hand from his grip to gently touch his cheeks. Éomer leaned into the touch, the corners of his lips grazing slightly the skin of her palms.

"Ai, but it is my fault and I must beg for your forgiveness, _mŷ__ frëndscipë_,_ mŷ cwën_," he breathed, now dropping soft kisses onto her palm sending sparks through her body that it didn't cross her mind at all to ask what he had just said to her.

"Since you have asked so nicely, it would cruel of me to not forgive… so… um… I forgive you…Eep!" she squealed as he begun nipping at her fingers, his eyes firmly shut as if relishing the taste of her skin.

"Éomer, please… my father…" she couldn't continue as another jolt of pleasure rushed through her body, just barely managing to swallow a moan. Éomer gave a smug grin and the princess grabbed back her hand and bestowed a small slap onto Éomer's hands, her lips pouting playfully.

"My lord, we are not in Edoras anymore and here in Dol Amroth, ladies are treated with respect. Which means, dear king, there shall be no touchy-kissing, especially unchaperoned as we are right now," she huffed at him, fixing him with a stern look. But the bright twinkle in her eyes and the rosy pallor of her smooth cheeks spoke her true feelings on the matter of 'touchy-kissing'.

"Then I apologized once again, your highness," he replied contritely. Lothíriel nodded, still maintaining her prissy tone.

"I accept your apology, my lord, and you may resume holding my hand, and _only_ hold it," she replied and held out her hand regally. At that Éomer let out a short laugh and Lothíriel couldn't help return the laugh. He took her hand in his big ones and smiled wistfully at them.

"Aye, for now I am satisfied with small touches from yourself until I have proven my worth and gain the right to do more," he said softly not looking at her, but he could sense her surprise at his words.

"Éomer… what are you saying?" she stammered. _Please, enough games_.

"Lothíriel, I …."

The door opened suddenly and the two jumped, immediately releasing each other's hands.

"Éomer, your entourage has arrived, would you like to meet them?" Imrahil stood at the door, taking note of the red faces before him. Perhaps it was still not too late to throw Éomer's arse out of his city. But that would mean encountering the wrath of his daughter and personally Imrahil thought even the King of Wraiths would not be able to withstand the onslaught, much less himself. Éomer cleared his throat and rose to his feet. He had momentarily forgotten about them.

"Ah, yes, I think that would be advisable," he said, trying to inject some confidence into his tone but between nearly getting caught for improper conduct by Lothíriel's father and the tongue lashing he would no doubt receive from Éowyn then Helfast for spurring his horse on a solo ride without proper escorts to the city walls, there wasn't much confidence to inject. He turned to Lothíriel and with a nod and smile followed Imrahil out leaving Lothíriel alone once again.

When Éowyn entered sometime later, she was greeted with a sleeping princess who had her right hand nestled lovingly against her cheek and a soft smile gracing her lips.

* * *

Lothíriel heard her father's laughter even before she turned the corner that would take her to her father's study. Another burst of laughter wafted through the air towards her and she could easily discern her Amrothos's slightly high pitched tone from Éomer's deep baritone ones. In a way she was relieved that neither one of her overly possessive nor more times than not unreasonable family blame Éomer for the unfortunate happenings and still treated him as a friend.

_And perhaps one day as family_ the sneaky voice in her head teased her. Éomer's words from the morning still haunted her and she mentally willed him to explain himself hopefully sometime tonight. Finally reaching the doors to her father's study, she did a last minute check that her appearance was presentable before pushing the heavy door open.

Eight pairs of eyes turned to look at her, momentarily too stunned by her unexpected attendance to say anything. But a squeal and a sudden flurry of maroon flying across the room brought them back to reality and relieved chuckles were heard as they all watched Éowyn (the cause of the flying maroon cloth) smother Lothíriel in a hug.

"You are well, praise all that is good and pure, you are alright!" Éowyn half sobbed into her shoulder. Lothíriel, touched that the Rohirrim princess had been so concerned, returned the hug accompanied by some soothing pats on the other lady's back.

"Aye I am well, please no more tears, all is well," she cooed gently into Éowyn's ears. Éowyn nodded before pulling back and with a laugh, began to wipe her tears away. Lothíriel was right, all was well and there should be no more tears. She stepped away to reveal Helena standing patiently for her turn. A twinge of pain ripped through Lothíriel's heart seeing the small lady, knowing that the other lady had something Lothíriel badly wanted, but she repressed the feeling and bestowed Helena with a warm smile, sincerely given despite it all.

"Lady Helena, tis a pleasure to see you again," she said. Helena's eyes widen a little before she dropped into a curtsy.

"Nay your highness, the pleasure is in seeing you well and healthy," replied the petite lady and Lothíriel was a little surprised at the emotion in her voice and was surprised even more when she saw the glistening of tears in Helena's eyes as she rose from her curtsy.

"My daughter speaks true, your highness," another voice joined them and Lothíriel looked up into the smiling face of Helfast. Now, thoroughly touched by their kind words and sincere well-wishes concerning her well-being, Lothíriel blushed red and smiled. Then Helfast did something that completely took her and everyone else in that room by surprise. He knelt before her and reached down to kiss the hem of her skirt. Above his head, Éowyn and Helena exchanged astonished but extremely pleased looks, Éomer had to blink back tears at the unconditional loyalty Helfast was indirectly showing to his sovereign, and Lothíriel's brother's were simply stunned. As for Imrahil, he just leaned back in his seat. He had seen such an act of allegiance before, a long time ago when he was just a lad visiting their neighbors in the north.

* * *

Dinner in the Castle by the Sea was indeed a merry event and once again the palace was filled with laughter and songs. Not a corner in the palace was spared from music and singing that wafted in from the four corners of the city, for there was as much celebration outside the palace as there was in it. In the royal dining hall, plates and plates of food were placed on the table only to have them taken back a short time later as hungry hands reached out for the tasty morsel. Éowyn and Helena's presence did much to cheer the healing princess, for once again Éowyn had someone to moan and groan about the tedious wedding preparations with and her anecdotes were a constant source of laughter for Lothíriel.

"Would you believe, your highness that Éowyn was all prepared to sew a scabbard to the skirt of her wedding dress so she may wear her sword on the day?" Helena cried indignantly. Éowyn, on Lothíriel's other side, bristled as the other's burst into laughter.

"I am a shield maiden! Tis only proper," she protested. Helena rolled her eyes.

"Éowyn you are trying to get a man to marry you, scaring him away by wielding a sword to your own wedding will not help your case," she replied dryly. This made Lothíriel laugh louder, as a mental image of Faramir cowering before his bride filled her mind.

"Éowyn you are truly hopeless. Very well, I shall help you plan your wedding… again," Lothíriel said between her laughter. Very much delighted Éowyn wrapped her arms around Lothíriel, and to the amusement of all, she admitted that she had indeed brought all the necessary materials to complete her dress, and that three of Éomer's men, were actually seamstresses in disguise and finally, this shamefully said, that, with Imrahil's permission of course, Feälef would send enough nobles and aristocrats from Rohan to join the wedding consortium that it would seem as if they had begun from Rohan itself.

"And what would you have done, dear sister, had prince Imrahil said no, or even better, if I had said no?" Éomer asked her, shaking his head in disbelief at her story. Éowyn shrugged.

"Whether you agree or not does not concern me, dear brother, and beside Queen Arwen assured me Prince Imrahil will be alright with the idea, and you are, are you not, your highness?" Éowyn asked, smiling sweetly at the older man. Imrahil who had listened with amusement, nodded.

"I do not mind, Lady Éowyn, it will be something to look forward too, and more excuses to continue celebrating," replied Imrahil. Éowyn gave her brother a smug look and the young king gave her a much undignified look.

"Queen Arwen's involvement would explain then why she had been insistent on Faramir's immediate departure from Dol Amroth," said Elphir, suddenly thoughtful. He had been more that surprised when the Gondor queen virtually threw Faramir onto his horse and shoot her husband a death glare when Faramir relayed his wishes to remain in Dol Amroth after Lothíriel's awakening and Aragorn agreeing.

"Naturally, it is not proper for a bride to see her future husband until the wedding," said Helena and for one brief moment, she and Elphir locked eyes. But that moment passed when Imrahil stood up and beckoned everyone for an after dinner drink in one of the royal parlors. In an instant Éomer was by Lothíriel's chair, offering his arm. Flushed and pleased, Lothíriel accepted his offer, in her heart she still hoped to talk to him about his previous comments although the sudden remembrance of Helena in his life made her cagey and more than cautious.

"I must check my back for dagger marks tonight, for I distinctively felt some pierce my back from the looks your brothers gave me," he whispered to her as they walked through the brightly lit halls. Before them, Imrahil and Helfast were in an animated conversation, joined once in a while by Elphir with Lady Helena on his arm. Amrothos and Erchirion were with Éowyn, and unknown to the two, conspiring to resume their "matchmaking" albeit the two men were less than enthusiastic with very good reasons in their favor.

"My lord you exaggerate," Lothíriel laughed softly at him. "Besides, the glares you feel now are nothing compared to the looks you shall receive when you escort me to my chambers later tonight," she didn't look at him, but she could feel a small chuckle vibrate through him.

"Oh, I was not aware I am duty bound to escort your highness, but I shall endure it with a strong front," he replied and this time she chuckled.

"Truthfully, I wish to have a word with you. There is something that has been a nagging voice in my mind and I must clear it with you or I will never know peace of mind again," she replied, her tone suddenly serious. She knew she was being very forward and improper but she had to know. Éomer picked up on her seriousness and nodded.

It felt like years to the two before Prince Imrahil finally expressed his desire to retire to his chambers, therefore allowing the other's to retire as well. It took skillful maneuvering from both Éomer and Lothíriel's side to make their arrangement seem like a coincidental event and not something that had been planned out beforehand.

The two remained silent as they walked through the hall, neither saying anything but their minds whirling vigorously, one with curiosity and the other with apprehension. Finally they reached the white doors of Lothíriel's room and still the princess had not said anything.

"Princess, what is it you wished to speak to me about?" Éomer asked eventually after a few seconds of fidgeting from the two. Lothíriel nodded and bit her lip before inhaling deeply.

"What did you mean when you said previously about gaining right and proving your worth?" she blurted out. She had wanted to be tactful and eventually bring the subject up, but her nervousness got the better of her instead. Éomer visibly relaxed at her words and even chuckled softly.

"What do you think I meant, princess?" he asked, leaning against the wood of the door, not taking his eyes off her. Lothíriel fidgeted again, knowing that the look he was giving her was not appropriate but not wanting him to stop for the look made her feel… desirable. So to hide the sudden heat she felt, she frowned at him.

"I believe I asked you a question first. Please answer it," she retorted, and Éomer's grin grew but his eyes did not waver.

"It meant what it meant. I had the chance to make you mine and I let it slip through my hands. Now, with what I hope is a second chance I intend to right the wrong, prove to all and everyone that I do deserve you," he replied. Lothíriel blinked dumbly at his words. What did he just say?

"Make me yours?" she repeated still shell shocked. She couldn't believe she was hearing this. _How could it be? Wasn't it too late?_ Helena was his betrothed; the chance _had_ slipped them by.

"Do you remember once I told you, had I still been the Third Marshal I would court you so hard that you would have no choice but to accept me?" he asked, pushing off the wall to stand just inches away from her. Lothíriel nodded. Of course she remembered. He had kissed her that night, and she would take the memory of that night to her death bed.

"Well, its come to my attention that I am king, and do you know what that means?" he asked, the gap between them growing even smaller. Swallowing heavily Lothíriel shook her head, and only half of her knew what she was shaking her head to. The other half had lost itself in the sweet musky smell that had wafted into her nose.

"It means, dear princess that I can have anything or anyone I want. And I want you," his voice deepened and he was so close, she felt his breath against her skin and his lips… were so close… and getting closer…. Her eyelids fluttered shut as his lips claimed hers. It started of slow and closed lips, each savoring the softness pressing against each other and the warmth of their breath on each other's cheeks. Gradually the kiss deepened, and their lips molded deeply against the other causing Lothíriel to part her lips in a low moan. Éomer took this opportunity to part her lips further, letting his tongue slide in to meet hers.

Lothíriel was drowning in the sensation of the kiss. She could hardly believe that Éomer was kissing her. So many nights of only dreaming of him and now here he was, fingers entwined in her hair and he kissing her like his life depended on it. She felt like a tornado was tearing through her, lightening flashing down her spine and her body was tingling in his from the contact. Then the bit of her brain that wasn't wholly involved in that fascinating activity reminded her that he was engaged and it was not to her. Mustering all her will power, she broke the kiss and pushed him off her.

"Lothíriel?" Éomer was still reeling from the kiss and his thoughts were muddled from the ecstasy he was just experienced.

"My lord! What do you think you're doing?" she half cried, still panting a little from the kiss. Éomer smiled at her and moved closer to her again.

"I thought that was obvious, princess," he answered and moved in for another kiss but Lothíriel resolutely turned away, pushing him back again.

"That was not what I meant. Lady Helena…"

"Will make your brother a very happy man, I am sure, but let us concentrate on you and I and not on them," Éomer answered, and tried to kiss her again, but her palms were placed quite firmly on his chest, keeping him at a distance. With a sigh, Éomer pushed off her and looked warily at her.

"My brother? What does my brother have to do with your betrothed? And which one do you mean?" she asked.

"Helena broke off our engagement, and your brother, Elphir, has everything to do with it, since she left me because she loves him," he answered and watched adoringly as she processed the information.

"What?"

"Shall I explain again?"

"Curb your cheekiness, your majesty," she said.

"Éomer,"

"Pardon me?"

"My name is Éomer. I would like you to use it," came the wry reply.

"Very well, _Éomer_. So you and Helena are no longer arranged to be wed?" he nodded his head.

"Because she wished to wed Eli?" another nod.

"So the… um, what we just did was alright?"

"Yes, no laws were broken, no hearts betrayed," he answered. Lothíriel nodded. Seeing that she no longer had any questions, he reached out and pulled her closer to him. She went to him without anymore fuss.

"Are you done?" he whispered. She nodded her eyes transfixed to his lips.

"May I kiss you again?" he asked and laughed softly at the vehemence of her nod. He leaned forward and gently his lips roamed her face, kissing her eyelids, nose, jaw, hair, sending sparks of pleasure rushing through her. He repeated this until she felt like bursting with frustration, for she wanted to feel his lips on hers again. Sensing her distress he gave in and with more passion he kissed her. They remained like that till Lothíriel reluctantly pulled back, her need for air greater than her desire to live her whole life joined to his lips.

"Lothíriel, I want to start over," he whispered, tightening his hold of her body.

"Start over?" she asked, resting her head against his chest, her arms wrapping itself around his neck, a finger playing with a lock of hair.

"Aye, I wish to court you. I want to make you fall in love with me," he said and Lothíriel inhaled deeply. It was the first time tonight he had spoken of love.

"Fall in love with you? What makes you think I have not already done that?" she asked.

"Nay, do not tell me what you feel yet. Let me show you what I feel in my heart, show you my intentions are honourable and then if you still feel the same…" he couldn't finish the sentence. Was this a mistake? Should he marry her now rather than wait? But what if she decided as he courted her that she didn't like him after all? His life would end if she came to that conclusion.

"Éomer, what I feel can never change. Court me a hundred times over if you wish, but my answer to you at the end will always be the same," she replied and pulled back slightly to look at him.

"And what would that answer be?" he asked. She opened her mouth to answer but then closed it again. She released herself from his hold and retreated to the door of her room, a mischievous smile on her lips.

"You'll have to wait till the end wouldn't you?" she replied and opened her door. Éomer started to protest, but she silenced him with a look.

"Good night, Éomer," she said and with a smile she slipped into her room, leaving the king to stand alone in the hallway. Grinning, Éomer just shook his head, staring at the white door but seeing Lothíriel's face.

"Your majesty?" a sudden voice brought him out of his thoughts. He turned abruptly and met face to face with Erchirion and Amrothos.

"Prince Erchirion, Prince Amrothos, you are still awake," he said, hiding his true emotions behind a wall of calmness.

"As are you, my lord. Are you lost?" Amrothos asked.

"Err… no. I was… just about to head to my chamber actually," he said.

"Let us accompany you then," Erchirion offered. Éomer's eyes widen at that. He was still a little guarded of the three brother's attitude towards him, and had chosen to not take their calm appearance at face value.

"No, that is not necessary…"

"Your majesty we insist!"

"Very well, err… thank you,"

It was a silent walk to Éomer's assigned chambers, the two brothers's flanking Éomer on both side and Éomer felt like he was walking to his execution, so thick was the tension between them. So when they reached his room, Éomer couldn't help release a sigh of relief. He turned to thank the brother's again but just as he was about to enter his room, he felt a hand grip his arm, holding him back. He turned to face Erchirion, Amrothos just there by his shoulder, both their faces grim.

"We do not know what divine powers grace your being to allow you this second chance with our sister, but hear this Éomer King, hurt her again and not even your crown will stop us from feeding you to the sharks," Erchirion said, his tone neutral but Éomer saw the threat in his eyes. Éomer had no idea what a shark was but he knew he did not want to find out.

"If I should be so stupid to do so, then I myself shall bare my chest to your sword willingly," he replied with equal gravity.

"It is understood then," Erchirion said. Éomer nodded and waited for what else to be said to him. He did not expect instead the two to break into a huge grin.

"Wonderful. We shall leave you to your rest then, for if Lothíriel is as difficult with you as she is with us, then you shall need all your energy to court her successfully," Amrothos said cheerfully.

"Good night, Éomer king," Erchirion said and with a thump to his back, the two brother's walked away in the direction of their own rooms already engaged in rowdy bantering. Éomer stared after them a while, not really knowing what to make of all that then deciding to not make anything of it at all. As the saying goes, don't look a gift horse in the mouth. Turning back to his room, he smiled to himself. The next couple of days will no doubt be very interesting.

* * *

The sun was well on its way to high noon when Helena decided to break away from Lothíriel, Éowyn, the seamstresses and their many yards of silk and cloth to experience first hand the beauty of the city. She wandered the sandy streets with no particular destination in mind, marvelling at how different her home and Lothíriel's home was. Not for the first time, Helena felt a sense of awe and admiration for the princess who would one day have to leave her home and her family to reside for the remaining of her life in a foreign land, her husband's home. Just the thought of being away from her father and Rohan made her stomach churn painfully. To never see the grass glow with a golden hue during the early hours of the day and later in the late of day when the sun sets, to not be able to smell fresh hay or the earthy smell of horses, not waking up to the rambunctious singing of her father or possibly never seeing him as often as she wanted… that was a life she couldn't bear to live. The only thing that could convince her otherwise would have to be nothing short of a miracle happening or ….

Elphir.

Her mind drew a sudden blank, and all thoughts of home and fathers disappeared. The noisy chatter of the people, the chirping of the birds and the crashing of waves against the shore had suddenly become silent, like it had all ceased to exist. All she saw was him… bending over a trough of water, his idle sword by his feet a sure sign of his prior activities. Her eyes followed the steady flow of water trickling down his broad chest, disappearing into the waist of his leggings. Sighing softly, almost in hopeless longing, reality returned to her and realised that she should make her presence scarce before anyone noticed. It was insane how strongly she felt for the prince, when she barely knew him. But she knew this was more than infatuation or even lust. She knew it was love that she felt. But it was a doomed romance, her story, destined to be lost before it had even been found.

"Sad is your fate, to reject a king's ransom for a brief interlude in the shadow of man who wouldn't spare you a look," she said softly to herself. A shrill cry from above her head, beckoned her to lift her gaze and for a while her sad mood lifted to see a flock of wild swans fly above, their white wings reflecting the sun's rays like gold, except one. In the midst of the sparkling white swans was a single black swan, its ebony darkness contrasting strongly against the rest, the feathers absorbing the rays to give a light gold sheen, its neck the most graceful and slender. The vision was mesmerising, and for a while Helena stood transfixed at the sight. And when the flock passed her by, a strange feeling warmed her from the inside and made her turn back to the young prince. Her path was spread before her and all she had to do was chose which road she would take… but not before trying out all her choices. What did she have to lose? If she erred, then she will return to Rohan and turn her back to her mistake. She was never one to wallow in regret anyways.

The warmth within her changed to determination that steeled her back and before she had a chance to really analyse her actions, she began walking to the prince, not once taking her eyes off his bent back. The loud splashes hid the sounds of her steps and with an unwavering look on her face she reached and lightly tapped his shoulder. The next moment she found herself gasping for breath as Elphir swung around and knocked her into the trough. Both of them were very surprised.

"Lady Helena! Are you hurt? Sweet Valar I am sorry, but you should never sneak up on a person like that!" Elphir cried after a moment of staring in total shock at her spluttering form. He held out his hand to help her but was roughly pushed aside. Helena was wiping her eyes and looking at her soaked gown.

"Tell me do you treat all the ladies like your war horse or am I especially lucky?" she spat, placing her hands by the side of the trough in an attempt to raise herself, but her feet slipped and she fell under again. She broke surface for the second time, spluttering just as hard and looked up at Elphir's amused face. His arms were folded as he thoroughly took in her state.

"You are laughing at me! How dare you!" she hissed, now enraged, and wishing she were in reach of his sword. How she would love to swing it at his head. With a soft chuckle, Elphir reached down for her submerged waist and lifted her completely out of the water. Helena glared at him, trying her best to muster whatever left of her pride but from the laughter in his eyes, she knew he found her incensed expression even funnier.

"Do you plan to hold me till I dry or will let me go and allow me to salvage whatever is left of my pride?" she asked, her anger ebbing away as she suddenly realised she had a very good view of his naked chest. And what a chest it was.

"Of course my lady. Forgive me," Elphir said quickly and placed her back to her feet. They were silent, each not trying to look at each other and trying to think of something to say.

"So… is there something you wish from me, Lady Helena?" Elphir broke the silence. Helena wanted to nod. _Yes, I do wish for something, Prince Elphir. Your heart._ But of course she couldn't say that.

"I was simply taking a stroll down that lane and came upon yourself and decided to wish you a good morning. Should I have known I would be attacked, I would have don on my father's armour beforehand," she replied instead, pointing to a narrow gravel road that connected the castle to the seashore. Elphir chuckled at her words then flicked a glance to the midday sun. Helena saw it and flushed a little.

"Ah, it would seem that my greeting has come too late. Morning has passed," she said sheepishly. Elphir gave her a lopsided grin.

"Yes, it would seem so. But don't despair. You are in time to wish me a good afternoon, if you wish," he answered.

"You are right. Well, good afternoon, Prince Elphir," she said with a small laugh.

"And good afternoon to you too, Lady Helena," he replied with a flourish bow that caused her to laugh louder and a little of the nervousness in her heart lifted.

"And now that you have wished me, how else may I be of service," he said after a moments break. Still a little high from their easy bantering, Helena's tongue relaxed a little more than it should.

"Actually there is something I have to tell you," she said before realising that she had slipped and the apprehension returned two folds. Elphir looked at her questioningly.

"And that would be?" he prompted. Playing with the soaked cloth of her gown, Helena's eyes darted about trying to find a way out. She hadn't meant to say it like that. She wanted to drop hints, not blurt everything out. Knowing Elphir and his sense of propriety, he would just be disgusted by her forwardness and that would set her back even further. Then her eyes fell on his abandoned sword.

"Have you just finished training, your highness?" she asked hoping he would take her bait. He looked a little puzzled at the sudden change of conversation and turned to the sword.

"Err, yes, I have. Every morning, some of my men and myself train along the shores. The sea breeze clears our heads and sharpens our concentration," he replied. Helena nodded in understanding.

"Actually a few of King Éomer's men had joined us this morning," he continued before growing silent, his face contemplating something.

"Forgive me if I am intruding… but you and Éomer are no longer betrothed?" he asked. Helena shook her head to show that she didn't mind the question.

"Nay, we are not. How can I marry him when he is obviously in love with your sister?" she said amiably. Elphir's face darkened a little at that. It was obvious that even though he had declared truce he still harboured a little animosity to the young king.

"Aye… that is most unfortunate," he replied and Helena had a feeling he was referring to Éomer and Lothíriel being in love and not to her.

"I think it is a beautiful match. They are very well matched," she said. Elphir sighed.

"Yes they are… I suppose. But Rohan is so far away," he said softly. Helena's heart ached as she watched the sadness creep into his eyes.

"Distance is a small price to pay for the happiness of a loved one," she said gently, hoping to soothe him a little. It appeared to work as he gave her a smile, and his stormy eyes were a little less dull.

"Aye, you are right. She is happy and I treasure that above all rest," he said.

"You are a good man, Prince Elphir of Dol Amroth," Helena said this time openly staring at him. He flushed a little at her compliment but returned her gaze head on. However, a sudden chill blew in from the sea causing Helena to shiver.

"You are cold! I am so thoughtless," Elphir cried, breaking the moment the two had shared by moving away to a nearby pole and grabbing the cloak that had been hung on it. He carefully draped it over her cold body and secured the pin at the neck, ensuring that she was completely covered.

"Thank you," she said beginning to grow shy. It was such a personal gesture from him, to lend her his cloak while he stood half undressed before her. He just shrugged his shoulder and tried not to look too pleased with himself.

"That is okay. Just wished I had thought of it sooner," he replied and to her delight, she saw his ears turn pink.

"Perhaps I should head back to the palace and change to something dry," she said. Elphir nodded… and did she see a jolt of disappointment in his eyes. No… she must have been mistaken.

"Aye, that would be wise," he replied. She nodded and made a move to leave.

"Lady Helena!" Helena turned back. She was already a good distance away from him.

"Yes?"

"You said you had something to tell me," was his reply. She nodded, aye she had said that.

"I only wished to say that a man with a noble heart like you should be rewarded and that yours is right before you," she said. He was a little confused but then smiled wryly.

"Oh, and pray tell, what is this something before me that is to be my reward for having a noble heart?" he asked.

"Not something, my lord, but _someone_. Good day," she replied then swiftly turned back and quicken her steps. She did not look back to him but continued her quick pace all the way back to the palace. Only once she had entered the marble walls did she slow down to a normal pace. Upon rounding a corner, she was met by the other two princes of Dol Amroth.

"Greetings, Lady Helena," Amrothos greeted her, and followed by his brother.

"Greetings your highnesses," she replied with a smile. If the two were curious about her wet condition, they hid it well.

"Have you just returned from a walk, my lady?" Erchirion asked. Helena nodded.

"Aye, this is a beautiful place. But if I may be excused, I must return to my chambers," she said and the two men nodded. With a small curtsy she resumed her walk back to her room, leaving the two to stare at her back. Erchirion and Amrothos continued their walk in the direction she had come from when Amrothos suddenly stopped. He turned to his brother, a look of wonder on his face.

"Was that not Eli's cloak?" he asked. The two brothers shared a look and promptly turned to look out the window where in direct line of their vision was their eldest brother, heir to the City by the Sea, sitting at the edge of the water through, staring into nothing and wearing an expression of utter bewilderment.

* * *

The clean salty sea air was a refreshing change from the stifling four walls where Lothíriel had spent most of the morning sewing pieces of cloth together. Leaning a little over the edge she was able to feel the gentle spraying of the sea water against her face, and the saltiness of its taste in her mouth. She was glad that Aearon's fleet had docked in earlier than expected and her father had suggested a day at sea. Food and drinks had been prepared with a rush, and after some last minute instructions to a newly assembled crew, the royal family and their royal guest had boarded one of the smaller ships, a vessel designed for leisure trips, for a day of fun and sun. A sudden grab from behind shook her out of her musing and Lothíriel felt herself being pulled against a masculine chest. Rolling her eyes, she put on an annoyed glare and turned to stare to the man.

"Éomer, if you can not stay on your feet then take a seat," she said, turning to face him, as he continued to hold her, while trying to maintain his balance. This had been going since they had set sail. Lothíriel just couldn't understand how someone so skilful on a horse could not even stand straight on a ship. Both needed skill and grace but whatever dexterity Éomer had displayed while riding had completely disappeared since he stepped foot on deck.

"And shame myself in front of him? Never," Éomer growled back, slowly releasing his hold of her and attempting to gain his footing again. Lothíriel knew who _him_ meant, and risked a glance to Aearon who was steering the ship, a look of contentment on his face as he stared into the horizon. When he had first arrived, Lothíriel warned him to not bait the Rohan king and so far Aearon had kept his promise by not engaging her in a private discussion before the young king although she saw the amused smile he kept sending Éomer, who did not seem very happy to see the admiral. But so far, the day had passed without any confrontation from either if them.

A sudden lurch from the vessel and Lothíriel found herself once again wrapped in his arms. Honestly she didn't mind, in fact enjoyed the closeness, but she really didn't want to test the patience of her father and brothers, especially Elphir. It was a miracle that her eldest brother hadn't made any attempts to throw Éomer into the sea for this was not the first time Éomer had made a grab for her. And she really didn't think Éomer's excuse of losing balance would earn him any sympathy from her over protective brother.

"Éomer, go and sit," she said, her voice muffled in his tunic. Sighing again, she placed both hands on his shoulders and pushed him upright. He released her with a pout.

"Anyone looking would think you did not like touching me," he said sulkily.

"That is not true and you know it. It just isn't proper that's all," she replied quickly and gently trailed a finger across his cheek to show that she did indeed like touching him. That gesture placated him and his pout turned into a smile.

"When we are alone then," he said and winked mischievously at her before making his way, with small staggering baby steps to the main group, where his sister and friends stood talking. It took the two quite a while, with Éomer constantly stumbling on his footing and reaching out to pull Lothíriel closer to him. Silently, Lothíriel felt Éomer didn't mind the continuous stumbling as long he had her to grab to. How this was suppose to be a courtship she had no idea.

"Éomer, when my sons were small and first stepped foot onto a ship, I would tie a rope to their middle and secure the other end to that mast over there to help them balance. Would you like me to do the same for you?" Imrahil said as the two approached.

"Ha-ha. Your humour amuses me so," Éomer replied wryly, eliciting a laugh from Éowyn. She too was a little surprised at her brother's inability to walk straight.

"It would give poor Lothíriel some time away from having to baby-sit you and make sure you do not fall overboard," Éowyn added.

"Best to make the rope as short as possible as well," continued Helfast and there was more laughter when Éomer tried to take a swing at his captain but failing miserably when he stumbled again and missed.

"Alright, alright, you have made your point," grumbled Éomer at them.

"Come, no more teasing Éomer. I believe it is time for some lunch. Father?" Lothíriel said quickly, and her father catching on nodded. He signalled to Amrothos and Erchirion to carry out the large picnic basket containing a leg ham, some freshly baked bread, seasoning and a large bottle of wine with crystal glasses. Éowyn, Lothíriel and Helena then began preparing the sandwiches and passed them to the men. After all had been served, Lothíriel remembered that Aearon had not yet received his.

"Father, I shall send some food to Aearon as well, is that alright?" Lothíriel addressed her father. But before he could say anything Éomer turned to her, his eyes narrowed in annoyance.

"Why? He can come down and get it himself," Éomer snapped. Lothíriel returned his look with a venomous one of her own.

"Éomer, do not start," she warned.

"I am not starting anything, I am simply saying…" but he was cut off when she shot an exceptionally deadly look. Knowing the discussion was close to debate, he turned around and stared at the sea. Sighing softly, Lothíriel picked up the sandwich which Helena had prepared and began her ascend to the upper deck where Aearon was still steering the ship.

"Aearon, I have brought you some lunch," she said as she climbed the last of the steps and walked to him.

"Thank you, but you shouldn't have. I do not want to stir anything between you and King Éomer," he said taking the bread from her, but still keeping one hand on the wheel.

"Don't be silly. Nothing has been stirred, he'll get over it," she replied and smiled. "Besides, he's courting me, so he can not be angry with me for long," she continued. Aearon gave an "ah" look.

"I see, rule number one in courting is it?" he asked and she nodded laughing a little. He bit into his sandwich and the two were quiet for a while.

"The view is so much more beautiful from high up here. There isn't anything you can't see beyond the ship," sighed Lothíriel. Aearon nodded, knowing exactly how she felt.

"You speak words of truth, princess; one could feel like he is just one step away from heaven when standing high up here. But I think today's point of interest lies a little closer to home," he said. Lothíriel looked at him questioningly, but he just smiled and looked pointedly at the deck below them, where her family and friends had positioned themselves along the railing, and were talking merrily to each other. There was nothing out of the odds and she couldn't see what Aearon had meant.

"I do not understand," she said, still looking at the deck below. The upper deck had been built in such a way that the people on it were hidden from below but the deck below could be seen at all angles from above. Aearon gave a small chuckle.

"Do you not think it is rather mysterious how preoccupied Elphir is this beautiful day? And how he remained oblivious to umm, King Éomer's rather unsubtle attempts of being near you?" he hinted further. Lothíriel shifted her gaze to Elphir and saw that he was indeed lost in his own thoughts even though Helfast and Erchirion had engaged him in a discussion. And for someone who lived for open debates, Elphir's sudden change of attitude was strange. She continued to stare at him when she noticed something. If she hadn't particularly been paying attention to him, she would have missed his very quick and very brief glance at… Lady Helena. Not quite sure she had seen what she thought she saw, she watched him a little and longer… and there it was. Another quick glance to her.

"He's being doing that the entire time," Aearon's voice pulled her away from her analysing.

"Well, I… I didn't see that coming," she breathed, still a little unable to believe what she saw. It wasn't that she didn't like Helena, and she was aware of Helena's feeling to Elphir courtesy of Éomer, she just didn't think her brother would reciprocate the feeling. Elphir was so… stiff and Helena was nothing like that at all. She just doesn't seem like the woman Elphir would marry, that is all.

"She'd be good for him," Aearon said again.

"But they are so different," she gasped.

"And that is why they would be good together. Elphir's grounded attitude will stop her from flying all over the place and Helena's cheerfulness will prevent Elphir from working to his death. Yes, they are very well suited," explained Aearon and after seeing it that way, Lothíriel slowly understood how it could be possible.

"Well, I am glad. Helena is a wonderful lady and I can't think of anyone better," she said. Aearon laughed at that.

"Ah, as long as she is not marrying your man, then she is the best of everything is it?" he said and blushing a little Lothíriel laughed as well. Aearon did have a point. But he could say whatever he wanted, Éomer wanted to marry her and that is all that matters. Still smiling to herself, she turned her gaze to the man in question, who was leaning against the mast, a goblet in his hands. He was alone and looked to be contemplating something. She was about to go join him when he suddenly pushed of the towering pillar and began walking to where the wine casket was placed. Lothíriel held her breath and hoped someone would notice and help him should he stumble. But the other's were involved amongst themselves and didn't notice. Surprisingly though, Éomer made it to the casket without much wobbling and even managed to refill his glass without spilling anything.

Unexpectedly, the ship hit into a big wave causing it to jerk abruptly to one side that even Aearon lost his footing a little. But Lothíriel didn't see that. No, her eyes were fixed on Éomer, who, still holding the wine bottle in his hand, had managed to brace himself neatly against the onslaught and didn't seem perturbed at all. Thinking he had been lucky, she watched him some more, and a second time the ship jerked abruptly and for the second time Éomer managed to maintain footing. In fact he didn't seem to be having any difficulty walking on the moving ship at all. Realisation dawned on her. He had been faking it! He could walk smoothly but he had been pretending that he couldn't and …. Anger took over and with a swish of her dress she stomped back to the lower deck, ignoring Aearon's gleeful smile.

She continued walking till she was right behind him, not caring that her angry face had caught everyone else's attention and jabbed his back forcefully with her finger. Éomer turned with a start, and when he saw her his eyes widen momentarily before he promptly fell on his backside. Instantly, Helfast and Imrahil started laughing, while Éowyn just shook her head.

"Nice try, but I know you can walk properly," Lothíriel hissed at his fallen form. Hearing that Éomer grinned sheepishly but Lothíriel was unwavering. She stood towering over him, her arms crossed and Éomer knew he had to start explaining.

"Lothíriel, darling… I can explain. I just managed to …. umm … walk… properly… umm…" he stammered. Lothíriel's eyes narrowed and all of a sudden she didn't feel like listening to his excuse and swiftly turned heel to walk away. She didn't get far when she felt her arm being grabbed and herself swung around.

"Release me," she ordered, not looking at him.

"No." and the next minute she was pressed against a wall, and he pressed against her.

"Riel, please don't be angry," his voice was soft and pleading, but she refused to let up so easily.

"You deliberately made a fool of me," she said and hated the way her voice began to quiver. Immediately his arms tightened around her and she felt a kiss being dropped on her forehead.

"No, no, my love, that was not my intention at all. I would never make a fool of you, never. I just… dammit, Lothíriel, how can you expect me to be so close to you and not touch you? Do you not know how my whole body cries for your touches? Even a brief touch fills me with such ecstasy and joy, and I am so sorry, I really didn't mean to hurt you, or trick you, I just want to feel you," he said looking straight into her eyes. Seeing the sincerity and the pain, her anger slowly began to die.

"Alright I believe you," she said.

"Do you forgive me?" he asked.

"Yes, I do," she replied and his smile was so wide, it dissolved the remaining anger and she returned it fully.

"May I kiss you?" he asked again, and she nodded.

"That would be advisable," she said and he softly chuckled. Leaning in he caught her lips in a soft and sweet kiss which she willingly returned. All had been forgiven.

End of Chapter 14

(10,387 words)


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter Fifteen

The night was one of the most beautiful she had seen in a very long time. Not a cloud in the sky to hide the sparkling stars that were scattered across the endless dark sky. Inhaling deeply, she relished the feel of the fresh sea air that had just begun to blow gently and pulling her shawl tighter around her body, Lothíriel made her way to the balcony facing the ocean. It was well into the night and by right, she should be exhausted after their morning sail, but in truth she did not feel weary at all. Her body was still rushing with the euphoria of the day, as well as the good night kiss Éomer had eagerly given her just a few hours ago. A pleasant thrill rushed through her, and she couldn't help grin broadly at the memory of his wine sweetened lips pressed intimately against hers.

She suddenly stopped short when she realized that someone else had exactly the same idea as she had and was already on the balcony. And by the straight shoulder, stiff back posture she knew it could be only one person.

"Eli?" she called out and the figure turned to her, his face hidden by the dark, but she recognized the silhouette of his smile and walked on till she was standing beside him.

"Why are you still up?" he asked, now leaning slightly so he could look at her.

"I couldn't sleep," she said, shrugging her shoulders slightly. Elphir rolled his eyes at that and Lothíriel playfully hit him.

"How about you? What weighs on your mind tonight, dear brother?" she asked. Elphir turned back to the sea before him and sighed.

"No one," was his distracted reply. Lothíriel smirked at that. She wondered if Elphir even knew of his slip up.

"Lady Helena looked particularly lovely today don't you think?" she said after a while of silence. From the corner of her eyes she could see him suddenly tense up again.

"I didn't notice," he said but he had turned away from her.

"And that dress she wore, the yellow color complimented her skin…"

"Her dress was beige."

Lothíriel turned to him trying not to grin harder than she already was.

"What was that, Eli?" she asked in a surprise tone.

"Her dress was beige, not yellow," he replied and finally turned to look at her wearing a sheepish smile on his face. He knew when he was caught.

"Didn't notice eh?" she couldn't see it in the dark but she knew his ears were bright red. Sighing loudly, he slumped against the railing, his back resting against it. She sat beside him, and took time in arranging her skirts properly around her as Elphir tried to collect his thoughts.

"I don't know what is happening, Riel, I don't understand this feeling in my heart," he said after a few more seconds of silent contemplation. Lothíriel took his hand in hers and gently stroked his knuckles.

"Tell me what to do," he asked her softly.

"Eli, I can't do that. You must decide what you have to do… or _want_ to do. Eli, what do _you_ want?" she asked. As much as she wanted to help him, only he can calm the storm within him.

"That is the problem! I don't know what I want! I know what I _have_ to do, I must learn as much as I can from father, I must learn to one day take over the running of this city, I must look after my family and people…" he trailed off and shook his head. There was so much going inside him, he didn't know where to even start sorting them out.

"When did my life spiral out of control?" he asked her, a wry half smile on his lips.

"Probably the day you fell in love with her," was the reply. Immediately Elphir was on his feet, a look of sheer terror on his face.

"No! It is not love. This isn't love… infatuation… curiosity maybe, but not love! It can't be!" he cried out, his voice unusually loud in the quietness of the night. Lothíriel too was on her feet by then, and held out a calming hand to him.

"Eli, calm down. Breathe, in… out…" her soothing words did calm him down and once again he was slumped against the railing, his eyes shut tight.

"It can't be love," he murmured. Lothíriel took hold of his hand again, making comforting circles on his palm.

"How do you know that?" she asked gently.

"Because loving someone hurts, and I will never let it happen to me that's why!" he half cried. That stumped Lothíriel nicely.

"Eli… love isn't painful," she began but was cut off when he stood back up and began pacing.

"Yes, it is! It wrenches at your heartstrings, it tears your guts apart, it fills your mind with horrid thoughts, _Will__ she leave me alone… why couldn't she love me enough to stay?_ Love is fear and I don't want it!" he was screaming at this point. Lothíriel looked around, expecting half the palace to awaken but miraculously, they were still alone and the palace still silent.

"Eli, what are you talking about? _Who_ are you talking about?" she was scared for him; she was scared of the fear in his eyes that gave it a wild look. Never in her entire life had she watched her brother lose it like this. Elphir had never lost his composure, not even the stress of war and death fazed him.

"Mother, of course! Mother, I loved her and she left me!" he half sobbed. _Oh_ _Eli!_ Of course she should have known. Eli was probably the only one old enough to remember her, to have real memories of her before sickness took over her frail body, of experiencing the pain that haunted their father when she had died… so of course he would be scared. Their mother was the first woman he truly loved with all his heart and she left him. It was all he knew, all he could associate love with. A fourteen year old boy, hanging on the fine thread of puberty and not really understanding why she was gone but old enough to understand the pain and ache she left behind. And the war didn't help either, with him having to constantly be parted from his brothers and father, with only a few letters scant in between to reassure him they were still alive. Now, he had transferred his love to her and she… would leave too. Suddenly, Lothíriel truly understood her brother, how unconditionally and intense he loved and how much parting hurt him. And she also began to understand her brother's apprehension concerning her feelings for Éomer. In his mind, this would only bring pain to her. Just as he thought loving Helena would.

But Lothíriel knew that love wasn't pain. And it was about time Elphir knew that too.

"No, Eli… it isn't like that. Of course, sometimes love hurts, but it isn't a bad sort of pain. It… it shows that we are alive, that we can feel. But it is also beauty, and when you have that feeling in you… when you truly love someone, Eli, there's no more darkness, no more ugliness… only happiness," her face became dreamy as she spoke, and it was that, the look of peace and contentment on her face rather than her words that caused him to have a very slight, very small shift of heart and calm his fretfulness.

"But it's such a risk…"

"That is worth everything that comes its way."

"But what if it is not reciprocated…"

"Then find the joy in waking up every morning knowing that somewhere she is happy. If you can't be happy with her, then be happy for her. But, you won't know what she is feeling unless you ask her, am I right?" Lothíriel asked, feeling relieved to see the fear had been replaced by a thoughtful look. She didn't think for one minute that Elphir had had a complete change of heart, but at least she knew he was thinking about it, and that was half the battle won. He nodded, deep in thought. He had never thought of it that way. His life had evolved to such a point that he could only remember pain. When he thought of his father and brothers fighting in Valar know where, his chest would constrict painfully. When he thought of his sister, alone and possible scared witless, his heart would break a little, when he thought about his people suffering and his friends dying, well, a little of his soul would die too. And when he thought of his mother… no, he would not go there, that wound was still fresh, even this many years later.

Lothíriel silently watched the conflicting emotions wash over him before gently moving closer to wrap her arms around his waist. She smiled a little at feeling the action returned.

"This is all so sudden. I don't think I can accept it so open heartedly…" he whispered and she nodded. Yes, she understood.

"And I don't even know if love _IS_ what I feel for Lady Helena… but I am willing to find out," he continued.

"You won't regret it, Eli," Lothíriel said, looking up at him, smiling widely. He dropped a kiss on her head.

"I hope not. Thank you, Riel, thank you," he said and she tightened her hold.

"I am always here for you big brother, all you have to do is ask," was her reply. He only nodded in response.

"Come, it is well late into the night, I shall walk you to your room," he said after a while. She nodded and the two returned back to the main section of the palace, lost in their thoughts, enveloped in a comfortable silence. But just as he was about to leave her at her door, Elphir broke the silence.

"Is it worth it, Riel? To move so far away from home for love?" he asked quietly.

"Yes, I love you all very much, but Éomer holds my heart now, and wherever he is, that is home to me. And I know he feels the same as well," she replied sincerely. He nodded.

"Very well. If you are truly happy… then I shall be too, for you," he sighed. Lothíriel took his hands in hers.

"Thank you, Eli. That means so much to me," she said, blinking away her tears. He smiled at that and with a final kiss on her cheeks he left her for his own room and solitude.

* * *

Lothíriel woke up with a start. Disoriented and confused, she blinked blindly at the open window before realizing she had woken before the sun and it was still dark outside. She couldn't understand what had made her wake up so suddenly and why her heart was pounding heavily against her chest. She tried to resume sleeping but the apprehension grew to a point that she had to rise from her bed and walk around her room to ease the pain. After a while the pain showed no intentions of easing, so she draped her cloak across her body and decided to make haste to the healing rooms. She couldn't say for sure that the pain was not a residue of her stab wound and felt it imperative that she be absolutely sure. But just as she exited her room, she was distracted by a commotion that seemed to be coming from the main wing of the palace. Completely forgetting her original destination, Lothíriel headed towards the said area and when she finally turned the last bend, she was greeted with an unexpected surprise. Congregated at the steps of the palace was her father, brothers, King Éomer, Helena and Éowyn. Also there was Captains Talahin and Helfast, and seeing them in their full battle regalia did nothing to soothe her abdomen. Quickening her steps, she made her way to them.

"Father, what is the matter?" she asked when she drew beside him. At the sound of her voice, all present turned to look at her and Captain Talahin bowed in respect.

"Riel, why are you awake. Go back to bed, child, it is nothing," said Imrahil quickly, and tried to send her back from where she came from, but she resisted him and moved closer to the edge of the pergola where she could see her father's men as well as Éomer's men waiting patiently by their horses. They too were dressed in their armor.

"Father, what is the meaning of this?" she whispered, fear gripping her body that she could just about squeeze a whisper through her choked throat. Why was this happening? The evil had been defeated! There was no reason for battle… so, why all this?

"Father?" her tone became high pitched in her anxiety. Immediately Imrahil was by her side, holding her.

"Riel, banish whatever ill thoughts you have, for none of it is true. There is just a simple security matter that needs to be settled," he said, tightening her frozen body against him, rubbing her arm and back, hoping to ease the rigidity.

"Then why all that?" she asked again, her father's words did nothing to alleviate the chill in her heart. She had seen so many deaths and horrors at the hands of soldiers in her short life that she was hard press to believe anything else when associated with chain mails and spears.

"Riel, it is alright. Really. Our scouts have spotted a band of wild men crossing our lands and this is just to ensure that they do not terrorize our people as they pass through the villagers. Nothing more," Elphir added, also moving closer to her. He too was wearing his body armor, his sword hanging neatly by his side, his stance once again cool, calm and collected and any trace of last night's emotional confusion completely gone. Lothíriel paled a little at hearing his words. She knew what the wild men of Linhir were capable of and the villagers in Dol Amroth were in constant state of fear and alert to any signs of attacks from the savages.

"You will go as well?" she asked Elphir. He nodded and gestured to Éomer.

"Aye, and King Éomer as well. We will take the seaside route, it is a good chance for our guest to experience the beauty of our city from a different perspective, don't you think?" Elphir continued and smiled at her. But Lothíriel was not to be soothed. She did not care what they said, the pain in her stomach told her otherwise. She knew now that this was not just the normal ache of a dagger wound but her instincts telling her something. She remembered Faramir having experienced something like this, he called it his _Elvish moments_ where an ominous occurrence could be foretold by the throbbing of his knees. She remembered he had told her that when Boromir had fallen, he could not walk for a day for the pain was too unbearable.

"Father, nay, I do not think this is wise. Just let them be," she said, now turning to him, nearly on her knees pleading. She was well and truly afraid, but her father only took it as an aged fear that had been born in the dark days.

"We can not do that, Riel. There are people still living on the outskirts on the city walls and they must be protected should the need arise," sighed Imrahil.

"Then take more men, this is too few," she said looking at the handful of men gathered. Mentally she counted only ten, five from Rohan and another five from Dol Amroth.

"It is enough, we are not planning to attack them, just to make sure they do not cause trouble," Imrahil replied. Lothíriel was not convinced. She looked at Éomer to see what he thought but he seemed satisfied with the situation. Of course he would, the last time he had led his men, it had led to disaster. She knew he would not repeat the same mistake of leaving any city without sufficient reinforcements again. So he would not be of any help. As if sensing her thoughts, Éomer slowly moved closer to her.

"My love, there is no need to worry, nothing shall happen," Éomer said and gently ran a hand through her hair. He did not like to see her so fearful like this and had her father not been present and holding her, he would have pulled her into his embrace. However Lothíriel adamantly shook her head but her father had tired of the delay and prevented her from speaking anymore.

"Eli, the sun will rise soon and perhaps its best you head out now," he said to his firstborn. Elphir nodded.

"Yes, father. King Éomer, are you ready?" addressed the king. Éomer glanced briefly at Lothíriel before nodding.

"Aye, we ride," he said and in a heartbeat had mounted his steed, with Elphir following suit. Amrothos and Erchirion, who were slightly unnerved by their sister's reaction, stood at his feet, Amrothos absently checking Eli's saddle buckles.

"Be careful, Eli. I do not think Riel's feeling is completely baseless," Erchirion said softly looking up at his eldest brother. Elphir looked down at them in amusement.

"Do not worry, brother, I will be fine, there is no need to bring out the body bag just yet," he joked, but his two brother's paled at his words.

"Elphir, do not say that, not even in jest," Amrothos said, his eyes wide. Elphir laughed. What evil wind had blown into his siblings' mind that would cause them to react in such a way? They are acting like he had never ridden to battle before. And he wasn't even going to do so. In truth, what he was about to do qualified as border patrol and he has done that since he was sixteen. With a final reassuring pat on their shoulders, he guided his horse to the front of the garrison beside Éomer, and turned one last time to look at his family and to those who were beginning to feel like family to him. His gaze lingered a little longer on Helena. He wished he could have had time to ponder the raging feelings going within him concerning the fair maiden but he figured there would be plenty of time later when they returned safely, which he knew they would despite whatever ill omen feeling Lothíriel was having.

"Shall we, your majesty?" he turned to the king beside him. Éomer nodded his agreement and as the sun gradually took its place in the sun, Elphir led the combined forces of Rohan and Dol Amroth out of the city walls.

Their ride was most of the time silent, and for the first time since Elphir's first visit to Rohan, the two were alone without Éomer or Elphir's sister to buffer the situation. In the background, as if sensing the awkwardness between the royals, the men were quiet as well, only with Captain Talahin occasionally pointing and explaining something significant. Elphir had purposely taken the coastal road, a long dirt path that stretched along the cliff, where on one side was the sea crashing violently against the base of the cliff and on the other side was a gentle slope that led down to where the settlements were. Already, Elphir could hear the sounds of people going about their everyday life in the villages below. The path that the wild men had taken would take them into Dol Amroth territory and may involve crossing through several villagers that were under the protection of Prince Imrahil.

Elphir was simply there to monitor their movements into the boundaries of Dol Amroth and that the foreigners do not become a source of problem to the settlers living in the nearby areas. He did not think that anything would go awry; it was just a small band of men. Nothing his men and Éomer's couldn't handle. It was as the small groups reached the observation point that the silence become so thick that Elphir felt he would choke on it. Clearing his throat he racked his brain for something to say. It didn't take much as there was only one thing that the two had in common.

"So, how fare things with you and my sister? All is well?" he asked, keeping his eyes on the road before them. From where they had stopped, the men were able to see far into the horizon and the activities of the villagers below were easily monitored.

"Aye, all is well. I am teaching her of the way of the Mark. She is a fast learner, and will fit in nicely with my people," he replied, a small smile gracing his lips as he thought of her dedication to learning about her soon to be home. Elphir nodded, but his expression showed nothing. They were silent for a while longer before Éomer risked a glance at his direction, and though his face was placid, Éomer did not miss the sadness lurking in it.

"I understand what you are feeling, Elphir. I too am about to give my sister away," he said softly. Elphir was startled but then he smiled ruefully at Éomer. This caused Éomer to be startled but he quickly returned the gesture.

"Aye, I suppose you do know what I am feeling. Tell me something, will it ever go away?" he asked.

"No, I do not think it will, for I know I will continue to miss Éowyn every minute she is away from me for as long as I live," he said. Elphir nodded again.

"But," the young king continued, "I do not see this parting as a loss of a sister, instead I'd rather think that I am gaining a brother in Faramir. And I realize you have two other fine gentlemen to call brothers, but it would be an honor for me to call you my brother too."

Elphir nearly fell off his horse hearing the Rohirrim's words. He had not expected such a gesture from Éomer that without much thought his inhibitions against the king faded into nothingness. Éomer was not looking at him, but Elphir saw the hope in his eyes.

"Aye, I would like that too… brother," he replied and truly for the first time, the two men shared a smile that did not hide any hidden wariness. Suddenly Elphir laughed aloud, his baritone voice echoed through the rider's ears, a most pleasant sound against the roaring waves that were crashing into the cliffs below. Éomer just looked at him in a bemused manner and glancing back, he saw the other men wearing the same expression, except a few junior soldiers who in their short lives never seen the crown prince smile much less laugh.

"You are scaring your men, your highness," teased Éomer as Elphir's laughed subsided. This evoked another round from the dark haired man and even Éomer chuckled lightly. Eventually, Elphir calmed down enough and settled back properly onto his horse.

"Tis been a long time since I had a true reason to laugh," he sighed, still smiling. Éomer cocked an eyebrow at this.

"Should I be offended or flattered at that statement?" he asked wryly, and Elphir sniggered at him.

"Nay, I do not laugh at you, I truly am privileged to be called brother by you. I was simply thinking that now we are family I am obliged to inform you that you are marrying a hellion cleverly disguised as a demure princess," he said and this time even Éomer laughed out loud.

"I thank you for the warning, though I can not say it has changed my mind about marrying her," Éomer said.

"You are a brave man then King Éomer," replied Elphir, trying for a serious look but the presence of a smile on his lips did well to ruin the effect.

"Aye yes. By love a king is made slave," Éomer sighed with mock resignation.

"Indeed," Elphir chuckled. There was no more words exchanged between the two, but the previous tension was gone, replaced by a comfortable silence.

Just behind them,

"I am glad those two have sorted out their problems, it would make for a relaxed family reunion in the future," whispered Helfast to Talahin. The other man nodded.

"I agree with you, Captain. But despite all his stern appearance, Prince Elphir is a good man, as is King Éomer I am sure," said Talahin.

"That I have no doubt, dear friend," Helfast reassured Talahin.

"He is indeed a fine man," this time, loud enough for only his own ears.

The sun was high in the sky now, as the men waited, their horses skittering restlessly along the path. Conversation halted for a while and Elphir took the opportunity to look away from the villagers and instead fixed his gaze to the sea. Just a little away from where they stood waiting, the rocky shore below had given way to a small bay that was outlined with soft white sand and the sea was gentler here. Along the bay, Elphir saw that the fishermen had returned for the day, fathers and their older sons were pulling in their fish laden boats with wide smiles upon their sun-darkened faces, for Ulmo had been generous on their time out to sea while the children were laughing as they playfully dodged the foamy waves that washed against the shore.

"Elphir, why are you still unmarried, if you do not mind me asking," Éomer asked suddenly, breaking the tranquil silence. If Elphir was shocked at the question, he hid it well.

"Married? I don't know. I suppose I haven't found the right woman yet," he replied, his tone impersonal. Éomer nodded.

"And what would be the '_right_' woman?" he asked again. Elphir fidgeted a little before replying.

"A lady who would love my people as much as I do," was the answer.

"And you as well?"

"Pardon?"

"She would love you as well,"

"That is not a requirement." Éomer shook his head at the answer. He knew this game well.

"Don't, Elphir."

"Excuse me? Don't what?"

"Don't repeat my mistakes. Yes, our people are important, I know that, and it is out duty to provide for them, but I also know now that it shouldn't be at the cost of our own happiness. A king or prince can't rule well and make the right decisions if his heart is weighed down with sorrow. Take your chances, find out more about her and perhaps she will prove to be the end of your searching."

"I don't know what or who you are speaking of."

"Yes, you do. I tell you this because, to quote you, we are family and it's my brotherly duty to tell you to stop being so bloody stubborn."

"I don't know what my sister has said…"

"She's said nothing. I have eyes, Elphir I see the look in your eyes, the expression on you face when you look at her, when she enters a room and you are there."

"I…"

"You what?" Éomer received no answer and once again there was silence and the walls back in place.

It was midday by the time the first wild men, wearing the gruesome after effects of war on their weakened frame, were spotted making their way at the base of the slope and entering the borders of the first small settlement. The small group barely glanced up at the soldiers above them who had fixed a steady glare on the suspicious figures. Like before, Elphir maintained his belief that the strangers would not be stupid enough to terrorize the villagers where they were passing through, yet, he involuntarily held his breath as he watched them march by, heads down, ignoring the hostile hisses of the villagers, or the show of animosity of the men who held various forms of uncivilized armaments, rudely pointed at the weary stragglers. And when the front most man, most probably the leader of the pack looked up at him standing guard above their heads, Elphir could feel, rather than see the hatred he bore for them. The man held Elphir's stare for a moment longer before turning away. It angered him that they could still be so defiant, so damn proud even when defeated.

"Where do you think they are headed?" Éomer asked, breaking the silent tension. Elphir shrugged his shoulders.

"I do not know, and truthfully I can not bring myself to care, as long as they move far away from here," was his cold reply.

"Perhaps this war will prove to be a lesson for them and they will settle peacefully somewhere," said Éomer again. Elphir shrugged watching the last of the outsiders disappear into the horizon.

"Captain Talahin, send four men down to the village for extra security. They may report back in seven days," said Elphir, not taking his eyes of where the last man had disappeared. Talahin nodded and immediately issued out the order.

"Come, Éomer, let us return, there is nothing left for us to do now," said Elphir and with a click of his tongue steered his steed into a trot, Éomer and the remaining men following behind. By then news of the prince and his men had reached the ears of nearby settlers and as the small procession made their way back to the city, they were greeted with cheers and clapping of the people who had gathered by the roadside to see the men pass. Boys of all ages were eagerly standing by the dirt road, nearly trembling in their excitement of hopefully being able to have a glimpse of their hero, which wasn't hard as he rode in the front alongside the Rohan king. Elphir bestowed them with generous smiles and waves, it was clear to see his good humor had been restored and at intervals he would even reach down to receive tokens from his people. Éomer tried to follow his example and although his friendly smile was received with respect, there was a lingering suspicion and hostility in the eyes that dared to look straight at him.

"They look as if they would turn me over a spit fire," Éomer whispered to the man next to him. Elphir looked startled at first before snorting with laughter.

"Word has traveled of the foreign king who would take the city's swan princess away from her people. Do not mind them, Lothíriel has become an important part of their lives, she will be sorely missed," he said and the laughing tone was replaced with a subdued one.

"It shall be sometime yet before I take her away. Rohan has been sorely wounded by the war, there is much healing that needs to be done before it is fit to receive its queen," said Éomer. Once again Elphir fixed him with a startled look but this time he did not say anything. Somehow he did not think Lothíriel would be happy with that idea but he also thought it was not his place to meddle in his sister's affair. Not when his was in a state of confusion. Eventually, the crowds of adoring people thinned out and as the tips of the city walls began to emerge, it was only them again.

Just as before, they rode in silence though now without the heavy weight of wariness among the men, instead there was a sense of awe amongst Éomer's men especially as they beheld the beauty of the sea under the sun's rays. A beautiful memory of a far away land that would be preserved in the backs of their mind, to be brought out in the darkness of nights when hope was at its thinnest. As for Elphir and Éomer, they were lost in their own thoughts, for each had their own hurdles to cross within the walls of the City by the Sea. It was due to those deep thoughts that they missed the sudden rustling of the nearby bushes, or the boy who suddenly jumped out from inside the bush and only when their horses reared and a terrified shriek was heard from under their horses did they realize what had happened. But by the time they had calmed their steeds, the boy lay crumpled on the ground.

Elphir was the first to jump off his horse and rush to the boy. He knelt by the boy and gently cradled the boy's head in his arms. The boy was still breathing though he appeared to be unconscious.

"Is he alright?" asked Éomer, who was now hovering worriedly over his shoulders.

"He's still alive and I see no injuries, but we should get him back to the city and have a proper healer look at him," said Elphir.

"Aye, the men have already begun preparing a stretcher to carry him, I will assist them," said Éomer already heading back to the horses, leaving Elphir with the boy. In his worry, Elphir had unwisely let his guard down so when he turned back to the boy, he did not expect to see the boy looking straight back at him with hatred glinting in the black eyes, and therefore did not react fast enough to avoid the dagger as the boy plunged it deep into his side. The sudden pain shocked him that he was momentarily paralyzed, slacking his grip and therefore allowing the boy to twist free.

By then the paralysis had passed and pain began to spread across his body, so much that he could not think and could only feel it throbbing against every fiber in his body. He didn't see when Éomer and several other's ran after the boy, he didn't see Helfast's face as the other man cradled his head with one hand and twist the dagger free with the other, and he didn't notice Talahin's vain attempt to stop the bleeding using his tunic. All he felt was pain and irony that his defeat would be in the hands of a boy. Then just before the darkness engulfed him, he thought of Helena, and sadness mingled in with the pain. Now he'll never know if she would be the one to heal his soul.

* * *

Within the city itself, Lothíriel's painful bloodcurdling scream ripped through the walls of the palace and those who heard it prayed for mercy on their own souls. Imrahil was by her side in an instant.

"What is it, daughter? Riel? Talk to me," he crooned trying to stifle the panicked note that threatened to escape his throat. The only reply he received was a strangled cry as Lothíriel doubled up in pain, dropping heavily to her knees.

"Eli!" her wail bounced off the walls and curled the blood of the inhabitants. Swallowing thickly, Imrahil pushed back down another panicked attack, willing himself not to wail alongside his daughter. He turned to Amrothos and Erchirion, but for once the brother's were stunned on their feet, their minds blank and rendered immobile. Only Éowyn was of sound mind to quickly find a servant to call a healer. The other Rohirrim lady had receded to a corner, complexion pale and eyes glazed with fear.

"Imrahil, we need to get her seated and breathing," Éowyn's soothing voice breaking into the cloud that hung around the prince's head and with a small nod, they managed to seat the crying princess. It was obvious by the racking of her shoulders; Lothíriel would not be speaking coherently any time soon. He did not realize when or how a cup of sweetened wine was placed in his hand and he could not recollect drinking it, but he did feel the calming effects it had on his wracked nerves, and slowly the haze cleared form his head and rational and logical thoughts returned. And what the two were telling him was that he had to find his eldest son.

"I will ride out, re-trace Elphir's route," his voice was no louder than a whisper, but the conviction in it snapped the other two gentlemen out of their stupor. Immediately they were on their feet.

"Aye, we shall ride with you," Erchirion said, his voice shaky, but the determined look in his face could not be doubted. Beside him Amrothos was nodding as well. Imrahil looked at them, looked into their unwavering eyes, and for a minute they were so like Elphir's, he was hit with a wave of fear. He had no idea what had happened out there, and truthfully, he was not hoping for the best.

"Amer, you may come, Chirion, you stay," his tone was still soft and when Erchirion opened his mouth to protest, Imrahil just shot him a look that effectively shut the younger prince.

"Stay here and hold fort, just in case we miss your brother's return," he would not believe otherwise. Turning to Amrothos, "prepare my horse and get as many men possible, we ride with speed and stealth." Amrothos nodded and ran out the room. Then he turned to his daughter who was sobbing into Éowyn's shoulder.

"Riel, it will be alright," he whispered reaching out to stroke her hair.

"I told you! I told you to let it be! Why did you not listen to me?" she suddenly cried, whipping around to flash him with angry watery eyes. Imrahil's eyes were downcast and his heart felt wretched. _Why hadn't he listened?_

"I am sorry, my daughter… I … do not have…" his words were cut off when Lothíriel flung herself into his arms.

"Nay, nay, I am sorry, I should not have reacted so. It is only that I am so scared, tis not only Eli, father… but Éomer is with him," the last bit was said in a hush, as if saying it any louder would confirm her worst fears. From her other side, Éowyn was gently rubbing her arm, she was worried too, but thought best to keep it at bay, for now. Their moment was broken when Amrothos re-entered and announced that they were ready to leave. With a last hug to his daughter and a firm grip on his second born's shoulder, Imrahil was gone, Amrothos two steps behind him.

"All will be alright, have faith," Éowyn's words were the last to be heard as the room delved into silence and Helena, trembling and pallid in the corner had successfully gone unnoticed.

* * *

Éomer's lips were pressed into a thin line, his eyes nearly dark in his anger. His back was rigid and his knuckles white as he tightly clutched the reigns of his horses. Behind him, his men and the Dol Amroth captain were of similar stance, only once in a while breaking the rigidity of their stance to cast a glance at the unconscious prince, who was firmly seated in front of Captain Talahin and held secured by the captain's strong arms. And all of them were trying very hard to ignore the crass words thrown at them from their prisoners.

Éomer's lips tightened even more as he recollected back how after the boy had masterfully slip the dagger into Elphir's side, he and a few men had chased after the boy and though the boy had a good start on them, his obvious lack of nourishment did much to inhibit his speed and was caught only a short time later. What was unexpected, however was the woman he was caught with. A woman of middle age, dirty blonde hair and a dirtier face, with a scar that ran from the base of her ear down the length of her neck. While the boy had given in willingly, the woman had scratched and clawed in her resistance to capture, and right now one of his men was hosting a cut that would no doubt scar just as bad as hers. The two hostages were on foot and their hands were tied to Elphir's horse, which was being steered by one of Éomer's men. And it was that woman who was now threatening to kill, murder and slay every living creature within Dol Amroth.

He ignored for the fifth time her threat on the 'lovely swan princess' but like the other's, anger swelled within him and his grip tightened even more. But anger was not the only thing that overwhelmed him. There was also fear. He did not think the crazy woman would be given much a chance to carry out her threat on his beloved, but images of her being held captive, her lying in her own blood… he quickly shook his head to clear out the morbid thoughts and focused instead on the situation around him. Their pace was slow, as to not jolt the wounded prince too much as well as there were the two prisoners on foot, and so therefore they were easy preys on who ever else wished them harm. He wished he could send out a rider back to the city for reinforcements, but with such sparse soldiers at his disposal already, and a wounded man, he could not afford such a risk.

Suddenly Lothíriel's words returned to him, and in his eyes he saw her begging her father to send out more men. She had foreshadowed this event and for a moment, a ray of hope eased the burden of his heart, and that maybe, just maybe, help had already been sent out. But it was short lived as thinking of her brought back the fears he had tucked deep in his heart. He had failed once to keep her safe within his city, was he placing her into more danger when he finally took her back for good? He did want to marry her, by Eorl, how he was in love with her, and how much he wanted to spend everyday of his life with her but…

The thundering of hooves brought him out of his reverie, and instantly his sword was drawn. A brief glance back and he saw the other doing the same, and by some unspoken agreement, they had formed a protective circle around Talahin and Elphir, Helfast and Éomer making up the front line. For the first time, the two prisoners were silent, also within the circle.

"Talahin, at the first sign of battle, take for the beach and ride hard back to the city, is that understood," Éomer's said, not looking at the man, his eyes fixed firmly on the sound before him.

"Aye, my lord," was the satisfactory reply. In battle mode, the men waited silently, not knowing what to expect and suddenly… Helfast, who was front most, let out a whoop of delight and burst into joyous laughter. Moments later, he was joined in by the others when Imrahil, Amrothos and more than a handful of soldiers came into full view.

"Éomer!" Imrahil cried out and spurred his horse harder. Under normal circumstances, Éomer would have been irritated at such treatment of a horse, but this was an exception.

"Imrahil, you took your time," he replied, his relief showing clearly and he even managed to smile… a little. Amrothos responded to the grin with one of his own, but Imrahil's eyes were busy searching for his heir. And when it landed on the limp and bleeding form in Talahin's arms, it took sheer will power to not fall of his horse and remain crumpled on the ground.

"Elphir," he whispered as he steered his horse near Talahin's and reached out a finger to touch his son's face.

"He is still alive, my lord, we must get him to a healer," said Talahin gently, his liege was in such a fragile mode and this episode, this mission that nearly costed him his son, weighed more heavily on Imrahil than any war could and it was like age had finally caught up with the man, as every line and wrinkle on his weathered face was suddenly visible.

"Aye, aye, you are right. Gilden! Mordred!" he cried to two of the men accompanying him. They approached with lengths of cloth and ropes.

"We shall bind him to you, and both of you to the horse, that way there will the minimum of movement on him," Amrothos explained and the men set out to work.

"How did you know about this, or had you ridden out by chance?" Éomer asked after a moment of watching.

"Nay, it was Lothíriel who warned us. The pain she was in intensified and she…." Amrothos was cut short when Éomer grabbed his shoulder.

"She is in pain! How much pain? Who is taking care of her?" he cried out his blue eyes wide with fear. Amrothos placed a calming hand on those that gripped his shoulders. Secretly, he was glad that Éomer was reacting in this manner, for it showed that he cared for the beautiful princess.

"At peace, Éomer. She is fine, and tended to. Your sister tends to her personally and Erchirion will not let her suffer unnecessarily. Be calm, all is well," he said and inhaling deeply Éomer did calm down, but his need to return intensified. He had to see himself she was well. He decided to preoccupy himself with tending to Imrahil who had not moved from his position by his son.

"Imrahil…"

"Who did this?" Imrahil interrupted, his eyes watching the men prepare the harness, taking care to not jostle the crown prince too much. Éomer who was beside him cleared his throat and chanced a glance back at the prisoners who had gone momentarily mute. His hesitance wasn't from any sympathy he may have held for the captives but of whether he or any of them could hold back Imrahil should he fly into a fit of anger.

"Who did this Éomer!" he snapped startling the young king. A few other men were startled as well, and as for the two captives, they visibly shrank against the horse they were tied to. Their movement caught the older prince's eyes and he glared down at them, his fury evident in his eyes. There were no more exclamation of death and destruction from the lips of the woman and there was naked fear on her face and as for the boy he had burst into tears. In one movement, Imrahil was on his feet, making his way steadily before them, his eyes fixed on their quaking body. He did not notice or care that Éomer too had dismounted and was keeping a close watch on him, his stance ready just in case the prince would do something drastic and foolish. Progressively he walked to them until he right before them.

He watched them calmly, for Imrahil was a calm man, despite it all. He wasn't easily perturbed, his wrath not easily inflamed. Never a man to hit below the belt or to strike those weaker than him that was his up-bringing. **But** when he was challenged… when he was pushed pass all boundaries of rationality and humanity, when his family was so rudely threatened and hurt, honor meant nothing to him. Only retribution fuelled his soul. Destruction upon those who worked to destroy his family. It was the sound of sheer terror and pain that filled the ears of those present as Imrahil in one fell swoop backhanded the woman and drove his fist into the boy, the sound of flesh meeting flesh resonating like a thunderclap in their ears. Éomer was shell shocked. He had never seen this side of Imrahil and for a second was glad that he was not at the receiving end of it.

"Father, enough! Don't! They will be treated accordingly," Amrothos was the first to find his voice and his feet as he jumped off his horse and pulled his father back.

"Talahin, go. Gilden, take your company and follow closely. Be wary of anything suspicious," he shouted out the order and with a nod, the men rode out, leaving Éomer, Amrothos, a panting and fuming Imrahil, Helfast, Éomer's eored and of course the two captives who were now sobbing quietly against each other, a bright red mark across the woman's face and bright red blood streaks across the boy's. His eyes had begun to swell as well. With Éomer's help, Amrothos managed to get his seething father back onto his horse and with a signal from Éomer, the men began their journey back to the City by the Sea.

* * *

A few days later…

Lothíriel found her beloved in the palace garden's staring pensively at the sky above. The sun was setting, and the sky was filled with streaks of bright orange, yellow, pink and red with faint hints of black on the sides, a sure sign night was coming. In the areas where the sun's rays had already left it, small sparkling dots of stars had begun to appear. He was laying on the cool grass, his hands tucked neatly behind his head and his legs crossed. She watched him for a moment, glad to see the look of peace on his face. It had been three days since their eventful return and although Elphir had awakened, and was healing beautifully, Éomer still had a haunted look about his face.

And until now, Lothíriel did not have time to talk to him as she had been busy tending to her brother and occasionally her father. The poor man was still a little shaken and often forgot to do even the simplest things like eating, so Lothíriel had to make sure he did not end up in the healer's bed beside his son. But Imrahil was well now as was his eldest son, and Lothíriel had left the two in the healer's room to find her love. Slowly she made her way to him and saw his head tilt slightly to watch her walk closer and sit down by his side. Lovingly, she reached out and stroked his jaw, the stubbles of his beard prickling her finger, but she relished that feeling. He caught her hand and gently began kissing each digit before lacing it with his, placing both entwined fingers on his chest.

"Your sister is worried about you, which is quite unfair of you as you know very well her wedding day looms nearer and she shouldn't have to worry over you as well," she broke the silence. Éomer snorted but didn't say anything.

"I hope you still remember that we leave for Minas Tirinth in seven days time. Eli will be able to ride by then, his wound should be completely closed up by then and he would be fit to ride," she continued not at all troubled by his silence.

"How is he?" Éomer asked, moving to sit up properly next to her, all the while maintaining hold of her hand.

"He is fine, his recovery rate is satisfactory. You can stop worrying now," she replied, teasing him a little.

"I can not help it. I feel like a curse to your family. Now I fear to be anywhere near your other two brothers for fear of what may happen to them," he said, sighing deeply.

"Éomer, you are speaking nonsense. This has nothing to do with you. It was coincidental. Both times." She stressed the last sentence when he tried to argue back. Éomer shook his head.

"How can it be? When you were under my care, you were kidnapped, beaten and nearly died, and then I ride out with your brother and he gets stabbed and nearly dies as well," cried Éomer, letting go of her and standing up. He walked away, his back to her and stopped to lean on a nearby tree, his shoulders drooping. Lothíriel followed suit and went to him before wrapping her arms around his waist and resting her head against his back. He placed his hands on hers and leaned back so their heads were touching.

"My love, this is highly improper behavior of a princess, we could get into trouble," he said but made no show of moving or pushing her away.

"I have no worries, father is with Eli, Eli is bedridden, we are safe," she replied. He chuckled at that and Lothíriel savored the vibrations she felt resonate from his back.

"That is true, but may I remind you of the small thing that is your other two elder brothers who are neither with Elphir nor bedridden and are very much capable of swinging a sword over my head… or through it," was his wry reply and this time Lothíriel laughed and released her hold of him. Walking around him, she went to stand infront of him, half her body against the tree bark and the other nestled against his chest.

"Somehow I do not think this is appropriate either," he said with a grin but wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her to rest completely against him. Sighing deeply, they stood in silence watching the last of the sun rays disappear and enjoying the peaceful moment and the beauty that was their love.

"Éomer, it really wasn't your fault. Do not blame yourself anymore, please," Lothíriel broke the silence and turned so she could look at him. He looked down into her pleading eyes then looked away. It was dark but the light from the castle behind them provided enough light.

"I know that and I tell myself that every time, but I can not help the feeling of guilt that has made its home in my heart. I try to forget, but then the images come back and sometime, sometime images of you in your blood fill my head and… I'm scared, Riel. What if I fail to protect and you… I can't live without you, and I swear I won't try," he said and buried his head in her hair, his arms tightening and holding to her for dear life. She returned the pressure and soothingly rubbed his back.

"You won't. Nothing will happen to me, I shall fill all of Rohan with your children and we will grow old together," she said. He lifted his head and for a while the sadness lurking in his eyes were replaced with mischief.

"All of Rohan? I hope I will last the nights required of me," he teased and Lothíriel blushed deeply and playfully hit his shoulder.

"Do not tease me my lord," she scolded and to her joy she heard him laugh. A real laugh, a sound she had missed hearing since his return.

"I am sorry, but that idea warms my heart and when Rohan is safe, I shall claim you as my bride and we will fill Rohan together, as promised," he smiled but was confused when she pulled back and out of his arms. Her eyes in narrowed slits.

"What do you mean when Rohan is safe? Are you saying you will make me wait … for how long?" she asked. Éomer blinked a little puzzled at the sudden change of tone.

"Of course, you do not think I will take you home to a land that is scarred and war torn, do you? There are so many things that need to be fixed, to heal, it is hardly a home as yet," he replied and didn't like the way her eyes narrowed even more.

"And do you think I am some frail selfish princess who spends her day lounging and hiding from the reality of war?" she hissed.

"No, of course not!" Éomer was bewildered. He did not think that, she knew he didn't. After all she had done, she was one of the bravest, selfless people he ever had the fortune to meet.

"You are right, I am not. And neither am I going to wait for you to decide that Rohan is finally 'safe' for me to live there. I will be queen of your lands, Éomer and as queen I will be responsible for the well being of my… **_our_** people and not to appear when all is well and disappear when things are bad. NO! I will marry you by the end of this year and I will return with you to Rohan and whatever healing, fixing or mending that needs to be done, I will be there by your side and together, TOGETHER, we will bring peace, honor and justice back to the people of the Mark," she ended her tirade, her chest heaving with unspent emotions and watched his surprised look slowly melt into amusement.

"Lothíriel, are you proposing marriage to me?" he asked with a laugh and after a moment of shock, she gave his chest a shove before turning to run, but he was much quicker and caught her by her waist, pulling her back to him, turning her so she would look at him. She tried to push away but he held fast.

"Riel, I'm sorry. I'm sorry. Don't be angry, please," he pleaded but there was still laughter in his voice. She stopped pushing but would not look at him.

"Please, I had to laugh or I would have cried, and honestly that is the last I want to do in front of the lady I love," he whispered, his lips against her ear, and gently kissed it. He felt a shiver run through her body and she had soften considerably against him.

"Why would you cry?" she asked.

"Why? Because I'm the happiest man in Middle Earth? Because the most wonderful woman in Middle Earth wants to marry me, have my children? Because you love me and all that is me and makes me? I don't know, really," he answered and she laughed. Pulling away slightly, she brought her hands to both sides of his face.

"I meant every word I said. I love you Éomer of Rohan, and I want to spend the rest of my life by your side, if you'll have me," she whispered her eyes beginning to water and her jaw wobbled. Éomer looked deep into her eyes and in it he saw forever. Tears pricked his eyes but this time he didn't hide it.

"I love you too, Lothíriel of Dol Amroth, and there is nothing I want more than to wake up every morning and see you beside me and you are the only one I want to rule alongside. I will have you and all the joy and beauty that is you. Oh Riel, I love you so much," and he sealed his words with a passionate kiss to her lips. They only pulled away when the need for air was too great.

"I can not believe it," he whispered, panting a little. Lothíriel rested her head against his chest.

"What can't you believe?" she asked a happy smile on her swollen lips.

"It'll most definitely be something to tell our children, don't you agree?" he replied with his own question. Lothíriel raised her head and looked at him, puzzled.

"What is it Éomer? What can we tell our children that you can not believe?" she asked. He looked down at her and smirked.

"That is was their mother who proposed," he said and then burst into laughter as she tried to hit him, her laughter mingling melodiously with his.

* * *

"For all that good and pure, I am FINE! Stop fussing!" it was the sound of an irate crown prince that greeted the day that morning.

"Eli, stop being a pain. You are not fine, you aren't even all right, you're wound is still weeping so will you please allow the healer to do her job!" came the annoyed reply in the form of Imrahil's admiral, one of Elphir's closest friend and comrade. Aearon had just returned from a two week voyage and had gone straight to the Healing Wing of the castle. Right now, he and Elphir were in a glaring match as a disgruntled healer changed the bandage around Elphir's waist with a clean one. In the three days he had been awake and a patient of the Wing, he had been nothing but a pain. He refused treatment like a duck's feather refused water.

He would insist that he was "fine" and he was quite capable of going to the bathroom himself and then falling into a heap on the floor because his legs weren't strong enough to support him yet. And when his brother's would help him back to his feet or eventually to the bathroom he would sulk and brood like a child for the remaining of the day. Even Éomer had stopped feeling guilty and instead reverted to feeling annoyed at the exasperating prince. Éowyn had completely immersed herself into the preparations of her wedding so her visits were at a minimum. Erchirion and Amrothos both agreed that a pack of orcs were more pleasant company than their bedridden brother and would resume talking to him when he was well again and Imrahil and Lothíriel were the only two people who still greeted him with cheer and goodwill. Oh, and Helena of course.

When Talahin and his men had arrived back to the city six days ago, Helena was the only one who had not rushed forward to see the prince. Instead, she hung back and watched with red rimmed eyes as they transferred him to a bed and began cleaning his wounds. She was the only one who did not cry or flinch at seeing the clean slice right through the princes' torso, and slivers of flesh hanging out of the wound. Not a word she said, not a sound she made and she did not offer her service. Did not try to console the grieved family as they waited those crucial 48 hours that would determine everything.

She only looked and watched and observed. And only when Elphir finally woke up and was announced to be in the clear did she finally retire to her assigned chamber and cried. She cried for all the words she couldn't say, she cried for all the times she wanted to scream in her fear and she cried till she could not cry anymore. And once she had spent every tear in her body and her body had stopped shaking, she slept for only then was she sure that her dreams would be nightmare free. But that had been five days ago. Now she spent her days tending to him whenever she could. She knew she did not have to, and by right shouldn't as she was a lady and he unmarried but she wouldn't hear otherwise. And Lothíriel was grateful for that, for that meant she had time to handle both Éomer and Éowyn's demand of her time.

She walked into the room just as the healer had finished tending to the prince and by her rushed movements, Helena could see that she was grateful to go. And why shouldn't she as Aearon and Elphir had broken into a heated argument.

"It is preposterous that I should be treated like a frail flower! I am a warrior, I can handle a little cut!" she heard Elphir's voice fill the room.

"A little cut! Elphir, the dagger went through and through! I am surprised that your innards had not fallen out and ravished by the crows!" came the equally loud reply. _Ah, so it was Aearon's turn today to do battle with Elphir_, Helena thought with a small laugh. She looked down at the tray she held, making one last check that she had all Elphir needed to heal and entered fully into the room. Immediately Elphir went silent, his eyes downcast. That was another thing that puzzled his family. Helena was the only one Elphir would not pick a fight with, and instead allowed her to do her work with the least amount of ranting and raving.

"Good morning, Prince Elphir, Lord Aearon," she greeted the two men with a smile. Aearon bowed to her and returned the smile.

"Good morning, Lady Helena," he replied while Elphir just mumbled a reply. She walked to stand by his bed and placed the tray on a small make shift table with raised legs that fitted nicely across Elphir's legs, so he did not have to balance the tray on his lap. Elphir eyed the steaming goblet warily.

"Why must they insist I consume that atrocious excuse of a healing draught? It is that appalling concoction that is making me sick, not this stupid wound," he hissed.

"Nay, it is your bad attitude that is keeping you here. Perhaps if you were more cheerful," she began and held the cup to his lips. He took a sip and grimaced.

"Nay, it is definitely the drink. It is foul!" he cried and resisted Helena's attempt to make him drink.

"Do not test me, your highness, if I must I will call in your brothers and trust me they would take on the duty of making you drink this with great pleasure," she threatened him and while glaring at her he took the cup rim between his lips and drained the contents in one tilt of the head.

"Argh! Disgusting! I wouldn't feed an orc that!" he cried and banged the goblet onto the tray, causing it to shake. But Helena was not even slightly ruffled. She still remained calm and composed, dipping a spoon into the hot broth. He opened his mouth to protest but found a spoonful of steaming soup in his mouth instead, and left with no other alternative, other than to spit it out and thoroughly humiliate himself, he swallowed it. From the other side, Aearon burst into laughter.

"My lady, you are indeed a brave woman to take on Eli so, it is about time he met his match. I will take leave now, Eli, behave!" he laughed, getting up to leave but not before ruffling Elphir's hair and Helena couldn't help laughing as well as she held up another spoonful of soup. Elphir grumbled.

"I can feed myself," he snapped and nodding Helena placed the spoon back into the bowl. It was just the two of them now and both were very much aware of it.

"Alright. Eat," she commanded. He glared at her and grabbed the spoon. But the injury had been treacherous enough to leave Elphir thoroughly weakened and when he gripped the spoon, his hand shook spilling the broth. In a moment of frustration, he threw down the spoon and sank dejectedly into the pillows. Helena sighed and looked at his miserable face.

"Elphir," she said quietly, somehow feeling that titles should be left out for now. He turned to her.

"Do not be like this. Feeling sorry for yourself will not achieve anything," she said. He sighed and turned away.

"I hate this feeling of helplessness. I can't even feed myself, for goodness sake," he spat and glared angrily at the bowl of soup as if it was the reason he was stuck in bed.

"Of course, you are a warrior and being confined to a bed must be driving you crazy," she said and he snorted at that.

"To say the least. But it just isn't that. There are so many things that need to be done. There is the trip to Minas Tirinth, and the upcoming Market Day, I must see that all stalls are set up accordingly, there are the issues of settlements that need to be discussed, and boundaries and land ownership…" he was stopped by a finger to his lips.

"And it is all being handled wonderfully by your father and brothers. You should put more faith into your brothers, they are good and dedicated men, just like their elder brother," she said with a wink that he just scoffed at.

"It's not that I do not trust them, and I am sure they are handling the responsibility well, I just wish I was there to make sure that all is well," he groused. Helena rolled her eyes, her father was the same, he felt that all of Rohan's defenses would crumble to nothing if he wasn't there constantly inspecting it and making sure everything was alright.

"I hate to break it you but in the six days you've been here, the ocean hasn't overflowed and drown the city, the sturdy walls haven't crumbled to the ground, the sun still rises and sets, people still breath, and Sauron has not been reincarnated," she said wryly.

"Are you saying that I am not needed?"

"Oh no, far from it. I am just saying that worrying is a useless activity and if you want to heal you must stop worrying. And snapping at people. And preventing the healers from treating you. And stop trying to throw your healing potion out the window and …."

"All right, all right. I get your point, you can stop now," Elphir said and Helena smiled at him. Their eyes locked for longer than necessary but Elphir pulled back.

"Why are you being so nice and patient with me? Even my family have given up on me and seek the company of other's," he whispered.

"You are wrong. If they could they would be by your side constantly. But it hurts them to see you like this, Elphir. That is why you must fight your despair and start to heal," she said and gently ran a finger down his stubbled cheek.

"I guess I have been a pain," he said grudgingly after a while and Helena suppressed the snort that threatened to escape. She tucked a lock of hair behind his ears and caressed his cheek again.

"There is still time to change. And you may start by letting me feed you some food," she said and pulled back to once again offer him a spoonful of soup. He willingly accepted it this time and was rewarded with a smile by the lady. Éomer's words came back to him; that he should find a lady that would care for him as well as his city. He opened his mouth for another spoonful and thought back to the feelings that had been brewing on his heart concerning the beautiful Helena. He had suppressed those feelings when he woke up wounded, his pride and side hurting. But it was all coming back now. And her words by the beach that day, had she not implied that she would be more than willing to explore her feeling with him. His people's needs were important but so were his. And the Rohirrim lady before him was slowly becoming one of his needs. And the bright smile she gave him when he ate the last of his broth made him realize that he wanted to return the favor and spend the rest of his life taking care of her.

End of Chapter 15

(11,829 words)


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter Sixteen

"This is your last chance, Éowyn. There is still time to change your mind yet," Éomer looked at his sister riding beside him, his face a mask of gravity. Éowyn turned to him, her expression a mirror of his, nodding quietly before promptly backhanding his shoulder, eliciting laughter from the Dol Amroth royal family, the loudest coming from the healing heir, his good humor restored when he had finally been declared well enough to leave his bed.

"Laugh now, Prince Elphir, your turn will come soon," Éomer grumbled, rubbing his sore shoulder, his words met with amusement from the healing prince. A week had passed since Elphir's stabbing, and under the care of Lady Helena and the Dol Amroth healers, his injury had healed beautifully, and so did his mood, much to his brother's and father's relief, and in truth, the rest of the palace inhabitants.

The entourage of two carriages and nearly fifty people, some wearing the green and gold of Rohan and some the sea blue of Dol Amroth made their way through the seven walls of Minas Tirinth to be greeted by cheers of the people of the city. The two standards, one of a galloping white horse and another of a black swan, fluttered merrily in the wind, and the roads were littered with sweet smelling rose petals. The Steward's wedding had been the topic of conversations for the last several weeks and preparations had begun well into the beginning of the week. From the bottom most level right on to the seventh level, banners and ribbons were strung across trees and windows, balconies that looked out onto the main road were decorated with bright flowers, and shop owners decorated their windows with green and gold in honor of Éowyn. Gracing the display cabinet of the Baker's shop was a foot tall prancing horse made from white chocolate and adorned with green ribbons.

Lothíriel looked at the scene before her and her heart swelled with happiness at seeing all the joyous faces in the crowd. And they were all here to celebrate the wedding of Faramir, a man who Lothíriel had long ago decided deserved all the happiness the valars would offer. She chanced a glance at Éowyn, who was gracefully waving to the people gathered, already taking on her role as a Steward's wife by acknowledging their cheers and well wishes, and reaching out to catch the bouquets tossed at her from the balconies above.

"She will make him a wonderful wife and a very happy man," her father spoke up from beside her, pulling her out of her reverie. She turned to him and nodded.

"Yes, she will, and the valar knows Faramir deserves to be happy," she replied. Imrahil smiled at her and reached out an arm and wrapped it around her shoulders pulling their horses closer together.

"Aye, that he does," he replied then turned his head so he could look at her face. Imrahil stared at her for a while, his eyes seeming to drink in her features, and a wistful smile decorated his lips.

"Father, what is it?" Lothíriel asked, a little confused by the sudden sadness in her father's eyes. As if suddenly coming out of a trance, Imrahil shook his head and smiled brightly at her.

"Nothing, I was just thinking how you'll make a wonderful wife as well," he said then gently dropped a kiss onto her forehead before stirring his horse to the front of the line, ridding up beside Éomer, leaving Lothíriel feeling confused. But by then the procession had reached the entrance of King Elessar's castle, and the king with his queen were waiting at the front steps for them.

"Éomer, Imrahil! Welcome!" Aragorn cried out, rushing down the steps to eagerly greet his guests with a tight hug to each man. He had missed his brothers at arm very much and to be reunited with them under such a joyous occasion filled his heart with such bliss that courtly manners were temporarily forgotten. Queen Arwen followed behind at a much calmer pace but light was radiating from her eyes indicating that she shared her husband's feelings.

"Aragorn, we meet again! You have done well my friend, The White City has never looked better," Éomer said to Aragorn who acknowledged the compliment with a grin. He then turned to Imrahil's sons.

"Prince Elphir, how are you feeling? We had received news of your injury and had prayed for your swift recovery," Aragorn said as he shook hands with the three princes.

"I thank you for your prayers, Your Majesty, for they were obviously heard and answered as I stand here a fully healed man," Elphir replied. Aragorn nodded in approval.

"I am pleased to hear that, Faramir was quite worried and will be most glad to see you again," he said. At the mention of the Steward, Éowyn, who had been exchanging pleasantries with Arwen, turned to the Gondor king.

"And where would he be, Your Majesty? I had hoped to see him on arrival," she asked, ignoring Éomer's rolling eyes. It was Arwen who answered instead.

"Do not worry, Éowyn, you will see him tomorrow at your wedding," she said. Éowyn's hopeful face fell at that and she looked as if she wanted to strongly object to it when Lothíriel came up beside her and took her arm.

"It is an old Gondor tradition, that the bride and groom must not see each other before the ceremony. It is said to be bad luck to the marriage if they should meet before then," she said trying to placate the Rohan lady. Her words were obviously effective as Éowyn calmed down and nodded, although somewhat reluctantly.

"Do not despair, Éowyn, after tomorrow, you shall be able to see him and be with him anytime day or night. One day shall not matter," Helena added from Éowyn's other side. A loud snort was heard from Éomer's direction.

"I already feel sorry for him," he said then flinched good naturedly when assaulted with dagger looks from both Éowyn and Lothíriel. Aragorn laughed at that and clapped the Rohan king on his back.

"And pray tell, Éomer, when will we be invited to _YOUR_ wedding?" the grin on Éomer's face immediately faded to be replaced with an flushed face and stammering, and Éomer tried to ignore the piercing looks he received from the Dol Amroth princes. From the ladies side, Lothíriel had turned a pretty shade of pink and averted her eyes to the ground. Arwen, who had watched the exchange, laughed inwardly but decided to put an end to her two friends discomfit.

"Estel, my love, perhaps we should show our guest inside. There are still many things to do for tomorrow," she said, reaching out to take her husband's arm. Aragorn, feeling that Éomer was embarrassed quite enough, nodded in approval.

"Aye, Imrahil I shall take you to Faramir, is that all right with you?" Aragorn asked and Imrahil nodded.

"Yes, I believe that sounds like a good idea. Sons, will you be joining us?" Imrahil asked then turned to his sons. The three nodded.

"I too will come, I do not think I have ever seen Faramir out of sorts," Éomer joined, his humor restored at the thought of a flustered Faramir.

"Brother, you will not tease him, is that understood?" Éowyn went to stand before him, her stance threatening although there was a small smile on her lips. Éomer responded with an innocent look that earned him a light pinch on the arm from his sister.

"The ladies and I shall meet you again at dinner then?" Arwen addressed her husband as the other laughed at the two siblings antics. Aragorn nodded, kissed his wife's hand and ushered the men into the castle, to his study where a restless steward and soon to be husband was pacing the room. Arwen led the ladies to the opposite wing of the castle, where Éowyn, Lothíriel and Helena would be staying in. She led them until they reached a set of heavy oak doors that were promptly opened by two guards.

"Ladies, I hope this is up to your satisfaction," Arwen said as she swept into the room, the three other ladies following, Helena's mouth hanging open in awe. The room that Arwen had placed them in was in fact a large suite, equipped with a huge living room and three separate bedrooms. The furnishings were made from the darkest of woods, each carved with individual designs and covered in silk covered cushions. The floor was covered in bear and wolves skin and against one wall was a huge stone fireplace. Adjacent to the fireplace and opposite the main door was a set of windows that spanned the entire length and width of the wall, with heavy velvet curtains lining it.

"Your Majesty, this is truly exquisite, I most definitely am satisfied," said Helena as she moved around the room, inspecting the woodwork and silk tapestries adorning the walls. Arwen laughed and recognized the compliment with a nod. Éowyn had disappeared into her room to ensure her dresses had arrived and most importantly her wedding dress was in good condition. Lothíriel had moved to the great windows and was pleased to see it looking out into the Queen's garden. Memories of her first proper encounter with Éomer came to mind, causing a small pleasant tingle to run down her spine and pinken her cheeks. She looked up briefly when Arwen came to stand beside her.

"Princess, I am curious. When will King Éomer's wedding take place?" she asked while still looking out into the garden.

"Honestly, I do not know your majesty. We have discussed it of course, and he knows what lies in my heart, but as yet, he has not gone to see my father," she answered softly. Arwen turned to her.

"You do not think he wants to marry you?" she asked. Immediately, Lothíriel shook her head. She knew Éomer did want to marry her. That was not what weighed heavily in her heart.

"Nay, that isn't it. It's just that… he believes that Rohan is still too much a war torn country to receive a new queen," she sighed and slowly dropped her head to rest on the cool glass. In a consoling manner, Arwen wrapped her arms around the troubled princess's shoulders.

"Have you spoken to him of this?" she asked. Lothíriel nodded.

"Yes, I have. I have made it quite clear that whatever healing Rohan may need, I wish to be by his side to help, for better or for worse. And yes, he has said that he agrees with me but as I have said, he has yet to speak to my father about our marriage," she said.

"Be patient, all things will come to those who wait," consoled Arwen. Lothíriel lifted her head and smiled weakly. Arwen gave her another soothing pat before leaving her to join Helena in Éowyn's room. Lothíriel turned back to the gardens below once again lost in memories.

"I pray I will not have to wait too long," she replied softly.

* * *

"Faramir, stop drinking yourself into a stupor," laughed Amrothos as he plucked Faramir's fifth glass of wine from his hands only to have it taken back by the Steward and swallowed in one tilt of the head.

"I can not help it. Every time I think of tomorrow, my chest clams up, my stomach churns dangerously and I feel the remnants of the last meal make its way up my tract," he said and went to pour himself a sixth glass. However, he was unable to maintain a steady grip on the decanter, and a few drops of the red liquid spilt onto the table.

"I believe that is a sign you've had enough, nephew," was the stern voice of his uncle. Imrahil raised himself of his seat and went to pull his nephew away from the liquor table, firmly planting the restless man into a nearby armchair. Faramir dropped his head onto his hand, and groaned at the beginning of a headache. From the adjacent chair, Erchirion snickered.

"Do you think this is funny?" Faramir glared at the other man. Erchirion shook his head.

"Oh no, of course not. But it is just punishment, don't you think?" he asked innocently and Faramir's glare intensified. He knew his cousin meant it as punishment for all the times he would torment a pain filled Erchirion when the said prince had returned from a drinking binge with his company and sporting a headache.

"Chirion, that's enough," chastised Imrahil then turned back to the Steward, kneeling before him. "Just breathe, Faramir, and relax. Tomorrow you will be married to one of the most wonderful of woman and it will truly be the beginning of the rest of your life," he said gently to the other man. Faramir lifted his head and smiled.

"I know. I know that well, but I can't help it. Éowyn is truly wonderful and she has already made me the happiest of man, but what if _I_ disappoint her? Will I be a good husband to her? A good father to our children? What if I turn out to be like Denethor?" he whispered, the fears that had been plaguing him for weeks finally escaping into his words. Imrahil shook his head and pulled the man into a hug.

"You will be a great husband and a greater father, I am glad to say that you are your mother's son. Do not let the memory of your father cloud your own judgment. You are not him, you are not your father. You are Faramir," he said. Against his shoulder, Faramir nodded and he pulled back to smile at the older man.

"I am Faramir," he repeated.

"And don't you forget that," said Imrahil nodding at him.

"You will give me away, won't you?" he asked and for one moment Imrahil saw the timid child, full of insecurity, constantly lost within his brother's shadow and once again he pulled Faramir into a bone crushing embrace.

"Of course, I will! You may not be of my seed but you are in every other way my son!" he whispered with vehemence. And as if to seal his father's words, each of the sons of Imrahil planted a kiss onto their cousin's head. Faramir pulled back from the embrace and looked up at his cousins. The very same men who he used to play with as boys. The same men that he would find brotherly solace in when his own was too far away. And the man kneeling before him was more of a father than Denethor ever could be and it felt right that Imrahil should take on the role of father of the groom.

Éomer and Aragorn, who had remained silent, too rose from their seats and squeezed his shoulders tightly, effectively conveying their love for the young steward. Looking across the room, Faramir had a sudden epiphany. The love of a father he had so desperately wanted and the love of a brother he thought had been lost forever was now truly his. And they were all here in this room; celebrating with him… _celebrating him _and the feeling overwhelmed his so much he had to look away as tears pricked his eyes.

"Thank you," was all he could say, his voice unsteady with the intensity of his feelings. The men were silent for a while allowing Faramir to come to terms with his feelings, before Éomer raised his glass.

"Come, gentlemen, this is a day of celebration. No more tears, no more sadness, a toast to Faramir. May his and Éowyn's life be long and prosperous!" he cried raising his goblet high. The others followed his lead and raised their glasses.

"To Faramir! May his and Éowyn's life be long and prosperous!" They chorused together.

"And may their marriage be filled with love and lots of children," added Aragorn, and the small group laughed as Faramir's face tinged a slight red.

"After you, my king," he responded, and the laughter increased, the once somber mood gone to be replaced with merriment as the men and especially the groom, waited anxiously for the dawning of the next day.

* * *

Lothíriel woke up the next morning to the weird sensation of being watched. She opened her eyes quickly and sighed in relief when she saw it was only Éowyn sitting on her bedside, her eyes unfocused and was nervously biting her nails.

"Éowyn is all well?" she asked, her voice a little husky from sleep.

"The sun was shinning in my face and the birds were making such a racket," she answered absently. Lothíriel laughed at her response and sat up, much more awake now.

"Actually, it's considered lucky to be awakened by birds singing and the sun shinning on your face. It's supposed to symbolize good fortune and happiness for your married life," she said. Éowyn nodded for a bit then turned to focus on the princess and Lothíriel saw that there was a certain murkiness in the expressive eyes.

"Éowyn, what is wrong?" she asked, reaching out to place a comforting hand on the blond hair.

"Just a little nervous, I suppose. Not that I'm having seconds thought or such," said Éowyn, quickly adding the last statement in case that was what was on the princess's mind.

"I have no doubt of that. Today, you'll be starting a new life with another person; it is quite natural to be nervous. But as long as you remember why you are marrying him, all will be well," she said soothingly.

"Oh, Lothíriel, how can I forget? I believe I am truly marrying the most wonderful man in the free world," Éowyn sighed and a little of the fear ebbed away to be replaced by a happy wistfulness. Suddenly the door to Lothíriel's room burst opened and a frazzled Helena ran in.

"Is she here? Oh Éowyn! I nearly died of fright upon seeing your bed empty. Come now, there is much to do to prepare you and we must start now," Helena cried, and made a grab for Helena's hand. Lothíriel took the hint and got up from bed to drape a silk robe over her nightdress. Éowyn however did not move from her spot and instead began patting Helena's hand, the wistful look still in her eyes and smile. Lothíriel caught Helena's eyes and together they rolled their eyes at Éowyn.

"Éowyn, if you are not ready in time and consequently late for your own wedding, there will be many a ladies eager to take your place," said Helena wryly. Éowyn's eyes widen at that and in an instant she was off the bed and scurrying to her room.

"Well, that was most effective," laughed Lothíriel and the two ladies shared a smirk before they were startled into a hasty run by the sudden barking of the bride in the next room, quite clearly telling them to hurry.

Nearly two hours later, the sun had fully risen to what was promising to be a beautiful day. Standing before the full length mirror looking more beautiful than the new day was Éowyn. Her dress was white as pure snow, the neck wide to fall gracefully across her shoulders. The bodice was snug around her trim torso and the sleeves large and billowing at her side, completely encasing her arms.

"Just a few more touches and additions and you'll be ready," said Helena, who fixing a tuck in Éowyn's skirt hem. Lothíriel, who had disappeared behind a small screen, reappeared with a long blue sash which she carefully hooked one end of the sash to a part mid way of the sash around Éowyn's waist. It dropped low to rest on her hips, defining her hourglass figure even more. The extra bit hung in the middle of the front of her skirt, where its end touched the hem of the skirt and there was an embroidered picture of the White Tree on it.

"I can not believe I am looking at myself. I do not think even Éomer will recognize me," sighed Éowyn at her reflection. The other two ladies stood and flanked her from both sides, and all three of them had glowing smiles on their faces. However, the three of them were jolted out of their reverie when a loud knocked was heard from the main door leading into their suit. The next moment, a lady servant walked in and announced that Éomer King would like an audience with the bride. The announcement was greeted with a stifled shriek from the still-in-her-nightdress Dol Amroth princess who flew back into her room, a laughing Helena just slightly behind her. Once the two ladies were safely hidden in the princess's room, Éomer was admitted in and shown to Éowyn's room.

"Éowyn. I hardly recognize you," Éomer gasped as he looked at his sister. Éowyn blushed to hear the sincere admiration in her brother voice.

"I know the feeling. I hardly knew myself. Who would imagine under all the grime there was this?" she said, laughing a little to hide the sudden embarrassment. Éomer feeling her discomfit laughed as well and gently placed a hand on her shoulder.

"No doubt the grime will all come back before the day is over, and you will be yourself again," he laughed. Éowyn smiled at her brother's teasing, his humor helping ease her anxiety a little.

"I wish mother and father could see me. What I would give to have them here today to see Faramir and I wed," said Éowyn suddenly. Éomer nodded solemnly at that and understood perfectly what Éowyn meant for it was one of his greatest regret that his parents would never meet Lothíriel or Faramir for that matter and know that their children had chosen well.

"I believe they can see you and as long as we remember them, they will never be too far. I do know that they are very proud of you, just as I am," he said and the two siblings shared a moment of mutual understanding. Even after all the years that had passed they missed their parents very much and found solace in each other. Then the two lapsed into silence.

"Nervous?" Éomer broke the silence after a while. Éowyn simply nodded. With a gentle smile, Éomer pulled his sister into an embrace, cautiously as to not ruin her carefully created look.

"Tis just pre wedding jitters. Today will go wonderfully and you will tell your grandchildren one day how today was the most beautiful day of your life," he whispered to her.

"Promise?" was the quiet question and the childhood question brought back memories of when it was just the two of them against the world, a time when Éomer wasn't a fearsome warrior and Éowyn wasn't a proud lady of Rohan but two scared children who had only each other to depend on with the passing of their parents, and it was then that Éomer had told Éowyn he would never leave her. She had made him promise her and till present day he had yet to break that promise.

"I promise," he answered her now as he had answered then and he knew that he would keep that promise as well till his dying breath. They remained in each other's embrace for a moment longer before Éomer broke away.

"Come sister, it is time. It would not do to have Faramir think that you've changed your mind and left him. He is already nervous enough as it is," said Éomer with a chuckle as he thought of the steward pacing in his room, waiting for the hour that he would say "I do". But that was Imrahil's area, which the old prince undertook with great forbearance. Thinking of Imrahil…

"Éowyn, where is Lothíriel? Has she left?" Éomer asked. His question brought a small laugh to his sister's lips.

"No, she and Helena are readying themselves. One of her brother's will escort her," said Éowyn. Éomer nodded and secretly felt relieved of the news. He had felt a slight apprehension that one of the court gentlemen would take on the role of her escort which when thought about now did seem ridiculous as her brother's wouldn't have allowed it. He turned his attention to his sister again and was surprised to see her looking at him sadly.

"What is it?"

"Nothing. I just had hoped that it would be a double wedding, yours and mine," she said. Éomer just shrugged at that. It was due to his own stupidity that he and Lothíriel were not married and he would have to bear the consequences of it bravely. Éowyn's regretful look then suddenly changed to a calculating one.

"When **_are_** you planning on marrying her?" she asked shrewdly.

"Éowyn, just concentrate on your wedding. I know what I am doing," Éomer replied warily. His statement was received with a snort and disdainful muttering which he responded with a light cuff to her head.

"Come, it's time. I can't believe I am finally getting rid of you," he said teasingly but Éowyn just laughed at him and linked her hand to the crook of his arm as they made their way to the palace grounds.

* * *

Outside a large crowd consisting of noblemen and peasants alike had congregated at the footsteps of the palace to witness the wedding of their beloved steward to the White Lady of Rohan. A long raised dais had been constructed underneath the White Tree where Aragorn would stand to preside over the ceremony. A lower level platform at the base of the dais seated those of immediate kin and finally the open area was filled with the lower classmen all eagerly awaiting the arrival of the bride and groom. Starting from two separate doors in the palace was a stretch of red carpet that led to the two opposite end of the dais.

Suddenly a loud blast of ten trumpets halted all conversation and all eyes turned eagerly to the two doors. Both doors opened slowly and three figures emerged. From the left was Éowyn on her brother's arm and from the right was Faramir with Imrahil by his side. Both of them were blocked from each other's view by a third person carrying a huge fan, one on Éowyn's left and the other on Faramir's right. The minute the two stepped out into the open air, the crowd burst into loud cheers and clapping, and several roses were thrown onto their paths. All the guests were on their feet to greet the two, happiness and jubilation radiating on all the faces present but for the bride and groom themselves, only the feeling of sweet torture filled their beings as they walked up the steps to where Aragorn stood. Their vision of each other was still covered by the cloth barrier, but finally the barrier came down and blue eyes met blue eyes.

Whatever feeling of doubt that either may have felt diminished the second their eyes met and nervousness was replaced by unconditional love. Faramir gave his soon to be wife a shaky smile which she eagerly returned. They barely noticed when the crowd quietened down and Aragorn stepped forward between them.

"Who gives this lady to be wed?" Aragorn's voice echoed loudly. Éomer took Éowyn's hand from his arm and placed it in Aragorn's.

"I, Éomer son of Eomund, give my sister, Éowyn, willingly to be wed," Éomer said. Aragorn nodded and took her hand before turning to Faramir.

"Who gives this man to be wed?" he asked again. Imrahil repeated Éomer's actions and took Faramir's hand and placed it in Aragorn's other hand.

"I, Imrahil of Dol Amroth, give my son, Faramir, willingly to be wed," Imrahil said. There was a momentary silence as Faramir whipped his head to look at Imrahil, thinking the man had made a mistake but no, Imrahil was aware of what he had said and his words from the previous night was strengthened even more. There were tears in Faramir's eyes when he turned back to the front. It was one thing to be called son by Imrahil in private but to have it acknowledge so publicly… words could not begin to express what Faramir felt inside. He could only hope that he would be able to repay his uncle for all the love the elder man has shown him. Aragorn gave his hand a small squeeze before joining his hand with Éowyn's before reciting a prayer:

_May God be with you and bless you_

_May you see your children's' children_

_May you be poor in misfortunes_

_Rich in blessings_

_May you know nothing but happiness_

_From this forwards_

"Do you Faramir take this woman to be your wedded wife?"

"I do."

"Do you Éowyn take this man to be your wedded husband?"

"I do."

"Then by the power of the ancient kings of old, I bless this union and pronounce you husband and wife." Aragorn stepped back allowing Faramir and Éowyn to close the gap with the cheers and congratulations ringing in their ears, Faramir claimed his wife's lips in a searing kiss, a promise of many more to come.

**

* * *

Several of the scenes and dialogues were snippets from Return of the King modified to suit the scene and to avoid accusations of plagiarism.**

* * *

The reception following the wedding was a boisterous and joyful event. There were couples on the dance floor dancing gaily to the tune of a specially hired orchestra and by special request of the bride and bridegroom, the guests were entertained to the upbeat melodies of the shire performed by Peregrine Took and Merriadoc Brandybuck, the silver and blue of Pippin and the green and gold of Merry forming a harmonious union, nearly as harmonious as the union of the Steward of Gondor and the White Lady of Rohan. The aforementioned Steward and Prince of Ithilien, sat with his wife and newly titled Princess of Ithilien at the main tables situated on a raised dais where on Faramir's left flanked his King and Queen and on Éowyn's right, her brother King of Rohan. But tonight was not the night of kings, but a night to celebrate Faramir and Éowyn. People from all corners of Gondor and Ithilien had flocked to the White City to witness this joyous occasion, for although those who have had the pleasure of meeting and listening to the wondrous promises of the new king of Gondor had immediately taken him into their hearts, it was the Steward of Gondor that they loved best, and tonight all eyes were on him and all prayers that passed the lips of the faithful were pleas to grant Faramir and his new life joys and blessings.

All except two pairs of eyes.

From his seat next to his father and brothers, Elphir, who really hadn't taken his eyes off her the entire night, had spotted the Lady quietly slipping out of the Grand Hall into the night outside. Partially from curiosity for her sudden departure and partially for concern of her well being, Elphir excused himself from his seat and as stealthily as she had, he quietly followed her footsteps to the night outside. He stood for a while in the darkness and gazed at the back presented to him, for he was experienced in the art of covertness and the lady had no idea that she was no longer alone. She was standing on the balcony that surrounded the hall, looking down into the many gardens of the palace. A light breeze had picked up, and gently played with her brown hair and the hems of her sky blue dress. He remembered when he had first caught sight of her, walking into the Grand hall on her father's arm, looking so beautiful in the pale blue dress and her hair let loosed around her petite frame, the only ornaments on her hair were a pair of pearl hairclips on each side of her head, to keep any unruly locks from falling to her face, her cheeks tinged pink with excitement and her eyes sparkling with happiness for her friend and her husband, and he knew at that moment, that he would keep the look in her eyes and guard it jealously with his life, for on this day, on this night, Elphir of Dol Amroth had found the only woman he could spend the rest of his life with and with no one else but her would he father a child with and grow old with.

A quiet sigh, carried softly by the wind, reached his sharp ears and brought him back to the present, to the reality that here he was with the woman he loved and the next several minutes would determine… everything. Not wanting to startle her to much, he made a show of clearing his throat and the lady quickly whipped around, her stance suddenly stiff with surprise and a little anxiety but just as quickly the stiffness left her shoulders and she sagged with relief at seeing his face, although a tinge of sadness was present in her gladness to see him.

"My Lady, why do you stand out here alone? What is on your mind?" He asked as he moved to stand next to her, his back leaning against the railing of the terrace, so he was leveled with her. If Amrothos or Éowyn had at that moment found a minute to spare and leave the Grand Hall they would have told the two that they stood in the exact spot where Éomer and Lothíriel had shared their first kiss and had the first stirrings of love for each other planted in their hearts. But the only witnesses present were the stones and the trees and they were silent, as secret keepers of romance usually were wont to be. The lady, who till then had been silent in her musings, just smiled at him shyly, uncommon to her quite energetic characteristics, but appropriate in this instance for how could she explain to him that he was on her mind.

"Nothing of great importance to anyone but myself, my lord. These gardens are beautiful and a perfect place to receive solace and comfort, my lord," Helena answered quietly. His brow furrowed at that, and a deep form of irritation stirred in his heart, for _who_ had dared to upset the lady?

"My lady, pray tell, who would have the gall to give offence to you, tell me and allow me to set him straight," he said calmly but she saw the annoyance in his eyes and laughed, for heart had suddenly felt lighter at his show of gallantry. She would almost say it was borderline possessive. And what more could she want than to be possessed and owned by this magnificent man.

"Nay, my lord, no one has slighted me, please do not be angry," she replied and for the first time her clear brown eyes met his stormy grey ones and they held. But she suddenly turned away for she had seen a flicker in his eyes but she was too afraid to acknowledge it, for fear she may have been mistaken. Elphir reading the sincerity in her eyes was also a little surprised to see sorrow in it as well. For the first time ever, he abandoned protocol and gently took her small hands into his, rubbing the soft palms with his callused fingers.

"Helena," he whispered, drawing her closer to him, "tell me what is bothering you? Do not let tonight of all nights be leaden with despair. Would you not tell me what lies so heavy in your heart?" he asked.

"My lord what makes you think I am in despair?" she asked.

"I see it in your eyes, they are sorrowful and…. I will not allow such a thing if it is in my power to prevent it," he said, the latter portion in a rush, and under the pale moonbeam, his cheeks flushed red. But Helena on hearing those words, immediately snatched back her hand, her tone suddenly cold.

"Your promises are sweet but deadly, my lord. You promise me this tonight, but what of tomorrow? Or next week? You speak of guarding my heart yet will you break it come morning when you return to your fair city? Then what will be of that sorrow I feel then? How will you prevent that pain from lacing my heart and breaking my soul?" she hissed, her tone low but angry. She did not care if she had just unearthed her secret longing, but she will not let him play her. If what he felt was a need to repay her kindness when he was injured, then she did not want it. She would not have his gratitude when she had already lost her heart to him. If she had been of lesser upbringing she would have run and never looked back. But she didn't she stood her ground and waited. As for Elphir, he had heard all he needed, and there was no bliss to match a love requited and no words to explain it. So, instead of words, he reached for her and pulled her into his embrace and kissed her.

In her shock, Helena could only allow herself to be swept in the sensation of his lips pressed against hers, the pounding of her heart and the tingling of her skin where his hands had cupped her neck. Closing her eyes, she gave in to him and when he sought entrance she willingly parted her lips and their tongues dueled sensually against each other before she finally submitted to him. They would have remained so and foregone the night's celebrations, but the sudden noise of some drunken lads in the gardens below pulled them away and the reality and the inappropriateness of their actions dawned on them. They were silent for a while but occasionally shared small smiles. Finally the silence became too unbearable and had to be broken.

"Elphir, what do you feel for me?" she asked timidly, suddenly unsure of their previous activity. He smiled at her and once again took her hands into his.

"Is it still not obvious? I love you, Helena. I finally understand what my sister feels when she is with Éomer. I understand the dull ache in my chest when I do not see you and the happiness that wells up within me, threatening to overcome me when you look at me and grace me with a smile. I understand now that that love is a gift, and I would have it to share that gift with you, if you are willing," he said and not for one moment did his eyes leave hers, and silently he willed her to see in them what lay in his heart. And she did, she saw the love reflected and knew her love was not forsaken.

"Aye, I am more that willing my lord, for your feelings are a reflection of mine, for I too love you," she said, and little drops of crystal tears trickled down her cheeks. Elphir gently wiped them dry and placed another sweet kiss to her lips.

"So I will wed the Lady Helena if she is willing, and no longer will she be lady of Rohan but ride across the five rivers and dwell in Dol Amroth for all that is fair there is made fairer with her presence," he said.

"And will you bear your people's questioning? Are there no more women of this fair country for the fair prince of Dol Amroth to wed when the king has taken an elf maiden and the steward the white lady of Rohan?" she asked saucily. He laughed at her words and kissed her once yet again.

"I would, and my life would be ever more wonderful," he replied and one last time that night he claimed her lips with his and they stayed for a while longer on the terrace basking in the ambience of their newly found love before finally deciding to re-enter the Grand Hall.

Time had passed slowly and when the two entered, there was still a healthy atmosphere of festivities and the number of people in the halls had not diminished. On the dance floor, Faramir swayed gently, his wife in his arms following his lead gracefully.

"Faramir, how much longer do we have to stay?" she whispered in his ears, her annoyance quite obvious. Faramir softly chuckled at her impatience but a slight whiff of desire and anxiety swept through him at the thought the end point of tonight. Through fits of embarrassed groans, Faramir had undergone a speedy tutorial courtesy of Imrahil on the happenings in a bridal chamber and though he was quite familiar with the mechanics, although mostly from his brother's stories than from experience, he was still anxious and frankly, quite afraid to disappoint. As if sensing his feelings, Éowyn soothingly rubbed his back and placed a warm kiss to his neck.

"Do not worry, tonight will be magical," she whispered in his ears. She felt his lips form a smile on the skin of her shoulder, where it rested.

"Shouldn't I be the one reassuring you, my love, and the one eager for tonight?" he whispered teasingly. She pulled back a little and smiled before kissing him tenderly. They kissed for a while longer, oblivious to the stares and grins of others, before pulling away.

"Yes, you should be my lord, which leads me to wonder why _are_ you stalling?" she asked and knowing he had been caught, he just grinned at her.

"You are too cunning to be fooled by me. Aye I am stalling but I had thought you would want to hear this. It was to be announced after our departure, but as I said, I thought you like to be here to hear it yourself," he said cryptically. She looked at him suspiciously but he was looking at the royal table and gave a small nod which was replied by King Elessar. The King of Gondor then turned to Imrahil and Éomer and several words were exchanged before the young king rose to his feet. He made a signal to the minstrels to stop playing and lightly tapped his goblet the tinkling of crystal effective in silencing the chatter and all eyes turned to him.

"My lords and ladies, friends from far and near, my family, not long ago, we had gathered at the step of Minas Tirith, a union of men from all walks of life, our friends and allies from Rohan, our brothers from Dol Amroth, Lebennin, Lossarnach, and our very own Citadel soldiers, united by a force that threatened to consume us. Tonight, once again are we all together united, but tonight the reasons for such a reunion is a joyous reason, to celebrate the wedding of two people who have overcome the differences of cultures and traditions and have bonded themselves, in heart, body, soul and mind. Please raise a glass to Faramir, Steward of Gondor, Prince of Ithilien and his lovely wife, Éowyn, Princess of Ithilien," he said and as one those sitting rose to their feet and toasted the newly weds. Aragorn waited for a while longer, waiting for the murmur to die down, before he continued.

"This, as we all know and the history books have confirmed, is not the first liaison between the two realms of Gondor and Rohan, and many Rohirrim women have found love and home here in Gondor, just as many Gondor women have found love and family on the lands of the Mark," at this point several heads turned and knowing grins were exchanged.

"Fear not, I am not about to launch a history lesson," here there were several burst of laughter and a few cheers, "but, I do wish to highlight one event in history, which will be quite familiar with many of the guests here and close to home for our dear Éowyn and King Éomer. It was the third age, 2943, when a restless warrior from the borders of Rohan decided to venture out of his realm and explore the wonders around him. His journey took him far and wide and on many occasions he would be seen ridding with soldiers of Gondor on many orc hunts, his green mantle a stark contrast to the black. One day, his ride took him to the south of the White City into the lands of Lossarnach, where he was greeted warmly by Fillibert, Lord of Lossarnach," a moment's pause as the people of the land took a moment to think of their departed leader.

"There were many beauties found in the land, mountains that stretched pass the limits of sight, wild flowers growing in abundance and sounds of waterfalls filled the air, and the young rider of the Mark enjoyed every moment of his stay. But one night as he took a stroll around the beautiful forests of the land, he came to a pool and was rendered speechless at the vision that lay before him. She had the fair coloring of her father's people and the angelic voice of her mother's. He had fallen for the beauty of her voice and later for the beauty of her soul. They were married shortly, with the blessings of her father and ruling steward and before long he returned to The Riddermark, and took her with him as Queen of the Mark, for the she was Morwen Steelsheen of Lossarnach and he Thengel son of Fengel, sixteenth king of Rohan and grandparents to Éomer king and his sister Éowyn, and by the lineage of her father, who hailed from Belfalas, she was a distant kinswoman**'''** to Imrahil," he paused once again as the people absorbed this information, and some sneaked looks at the Rohan King, who, some noted, appeared to be slightly trembling. Lothíriel, who had been listening attentively to her king's story smiled at Éomer, and two held each other's gaze for while, and the trembling passed. But Aragorn was not yet finished.

"Two months ago, another restless warrior from Rohan came to our lands with a fleet of six thousands, and though his purpose was different to his grandsire, the ends to his visit would appear to be the same and would bid to rebind the ties broken between the two lines. Ladies and gentlemen, yesterday eve, Éomer King approached Imrahil prince of Dol Amroth with a request and a plea that was granted willingly by Prince Imrahil and when they approached me for consent, I could not but whole-heartedly and with much cheer in my heart grant them the blessing they asked for and it is my pleasure to announce…" he paused here and his smile widen to great proportions. Immediately there were exchanged of looks and similar grins were breaking out in the crowds, Éowyn looked at her husband, her eyes wide with question then excitement when he nodded, Helena unconsciously gripped Elphir's arm and held her breath, Lothíriel, who couldn't seem to find the breath to breathe, gripped her father's arm in an iron grip not willing to believe it but wishing with all her heart….

Aragorn inhaled deeply…

"…in one year's time to this day, at the steps of Meduseld the Golden Hall in Edoras, Éomer King will wed Princess Lothíriel of Dol Amroth accompanied by her father's and my blessing," he cried and instantly there was clapping, cheering and although the Dol Amroth contingency were quite sad to loose their Swan Princess, they also couldn't help but feel happy that she had found happiness and love. As for the two, Lothíriel had burst into tears at the news and was currently buried in her father's embrace, her tears soaking his silk tunic while her brother's surrounded her, hugging her and their father, and Éomer was engulfed in his sister's arms and she too was crying. Helfast and Feälef, who had attended the wedding, were standing behind him, a hand on each shoulder. The princess and the king were then swarmed by well wishers, and Lothíriel began to cry again as those from the Rohirrim entourage informed her with all sincerity that she would be most welcomed as Queen of the Mark.

It was only a good several minutes after the announcement was Éomer able to slip past the well wishers and seek out his future bride. He found her with her father, still receiving congratulatory words from the guests and with a small nod to Imrahil who understood the look in his eyes and released his hold of his daughter, Éomer swept in between the people and pulled Lothíriel into his arms. Another cry of cheers broke out but the two ignored it and the outside world.

"Riel, I love you," he whispered. There were so many other things he wanted to say, but there were no words. Once again, Lothíriel felt her tears flow and she hugged him tighter.

"I love you too, my love. I was so afraid you would make me wait," she sobbed and he gripped her harder.

"Nay, I have wasted too much time with my foolishness, I would not prolong this anymore, not when I love and need you so much in my life," then he pulled back and looked at her.

"You do still want to marry me? I know I should have spoken with you before hand but it is just that…" he was unable to finish as she stopped his words with a press of her lips against his.

"I believe that's quite enough. You are not married yet," came the stern voice of Imrahil. The two pulled apart and Lothíriel was pulled to her father's side. He gave Éomer a stern look but there was an obvious twinkle in his eyes.

"Come and sit, there are still those who would like to wish you well," he said to the two of them. He held out his hand for his daughter but then Éomer stepped forward.

"Imrahil, may I?" he asked and gestured to Lothíriel. Imrahil nodded and proceeded to make his way to join his king and queen at the main table. Éomer held out his arm to her and she placed a hand in the nook of his elbow. They followed behind the Dol Amroth prince and took their seats at the table.

Éowyn sighed as she looked at her bother and Lothíriel, so involved in each other, and the love radiating brightly from their eyes, and she did not mind at the least that she and Faramir were no longer the focus of the night. Her thoughts were momentarily distracted when she felt someone watching her. Turning she came into eye contact with the youngest prince of Dol Amroth. They shared a small smirk and a single word was mouthed.

Finally.

* * *

The year passed quickly and before long Lothíriel was at the great door of Edoras. The city had changed greatly in the one year, and true to his words, Gimli had assembled his fellow dwarves and built a fortress of thick stones around the city and the gates were solid pieces of mountain rocks that required the effort of men and beast to open it. She was staring at the said gates now, not noticing the intricate artwork done by elves depicting galloping horses which were outlined in mithril. Her entourage, which consisted of her father and brothers, King Elessar, Queen Arwen, Lord Faramir, Lady Éowyn and the future prince of Gondor, Eldarion who kept company with future prince of Ithilien, Elboron, her country's noblemen and women and the most significant, the newest princess of Dol Amroth, Lady Helena. The Rohirrim had decided to embrace the wedding traditions of Gondor, where unlike Rohan, did not have a year long engagement requirement and the Lady Helena and Prince Elphir were married by the white shores of the city three months after the announcement of their betrothal was made, incidentally the day after Éomer and Lothíriel's was made.

That one week of celebrations had been the only time Lothíriel had seen Éomer, and the time spent alone was even less. She had missed him terribly and even the constant flow of letters from him did not dull the ache she felt. She could not wait for the moment where she would no longer be Lothíriel of Dol Amroth but Lothíriel of Rohan, and take her place by her husband's side.

They had arrived three days ago, and as per custom, they had camped outside the gates of Edoras. The arrays of large tents and banners made it seem like a small city had emerged next to Edoras. But during the whole three days, there was not a sight to be seen of Éomer king, and any communication, which mostly involved flowers and poetry to Lady Lothíriel from the king, was done via Feälef, the king's advisor or Helfast, Chief Marshal. But those three days ago and on the morn of the third day, today, Lothíriel would rid up the streets of Edoras to her final home. She was already positioned before the gates, in a dress of ivory white, its skirts voluminous and covered a good portion of white mare's back. Her black hair was let loose but in it were woven little studs of diamond, a likeness to a star filled night sky, and her face covered by a thin veil. Riding at the foremost front would be Elphir and Faramir each bearing a banner of their city, the white tree for Minas Tirith and a silver swan for Dol Amroth. King Elessar and Queen Arwen would ride next followed by Lothíriel and her father, looking handsome and regal in his official attire as the ruling Prince of Dol Amroth. Behind her would be Lady Éowyn, Lady Helena, Prince Erchirion and Prince Amrothos and making the rear would be the noblemen and women.

Finally, after a while of waiting, it could be heard from the other side of the gates the scraping of rock against sand and little by little the great stone gates of Edoras opened until it could accommodate the entry of the bridal company. Faramir and Elphir were greeted by Helfast and the Second and Third Marshal and after a few words were exchange, they led the congregation up the roads towards Meduseld. All along the newly laid stone roads there were hundreds of people lined, held back by the human wall of guards and all were craning their necks eager to see the beautiful princess that had saved their city so when Lothíriel rode by, she was greeted by cheers and jubilations from the Rohirrim, small bouquets of colorful flowers were thrown by her horse's feet. She took all this in from behind her veil and she smiled for not only was she so accepted but she understood the cries that were directed her way. While Éomer had spent the year making Edoras fit for a new queen, Lothíriel had spent her days with Éowyn and Helena and spent long days and nights learning her husband's language and cultures. Her efforts had paid off well, for she could easily hold a conversation with the two Rohirrim ladies and her knowledge of Rohan history was extensive that she could have easily been mistaken for a native of the Mark.

But all thoughts of history and culture were forgotten when finally the golden steps of Meduseld came into view and there at the top most step was Éomer, he was fitted with a long robe of dark green and gold embroidery that swept the ground at his feet, the middle parted to reveal a silk green shirt and leggings that were a shade darker than his robe. On his feet were calf length hide boots and around his trim waist was his faithful sword sheathed in its scabbard. On his head was a crown of gold and mithril that glinted majestically under the sun's rays. But it was not all these that held the princess captivated, it was his blue eyes that since she ridden up to the Golden Hall, he had not taken it off her and followed her as she dismounted her steed to walk up the steps on her father's arm to his side and when she took her place to his right, she saw reflected clearly in his eyes the love he felt in his heart and in his eyes she saw forever. Their moment however was broken as Feälef moved to stand between them, facing the crowd of eager faces that had come to witness the wedding of their beloved king and their future queen. Wearing a robe of pure black, around his shoulder was a satin cloth of white that was a symbol of his authority as guardian of this realm and in his right was the power to marry the king of the land to his chosen lady.

"We have come together here, brothers and friends, in celebration of the joining together of Éomer, King of Rohan and Lothíriel, Princess of Dol Amroth in the sacred act of matrimony." Feälef's voice rang loud across the city. He then turned to Lothíriel.

"Bride, is it true you come of your own free will and accord?"

"Yes, it's true," was her reply. Feälef nodded.

"And with whom do you come and whose blessings accompany you?" At this point Imrahil who had stood silently by her side stepped up.

"She comes with me, her father, accompanied with the blessings of her king and family," Imrahil said and he and Feälef clasped hands a sign of agreement.

"Then take your seat, my lord, with the sound knowledge that your sacrifice is not in vain," he said and Imrahil nodded. gently, he lifted Lothíriel's veil and planted a kiss to her cheeks and the two shared a moments of love before he Imrahil dropped the veil and made his way back down the steps to stand with his sons, his stoic face hid nothing the sadness in his heart as from this moment she would no longer turn to him for reassurance but to her husband who now owns her happiness as her sadness. But in his sorrow, there was a ray of contentment that the man he had given her too was worthy of her love and would protect her with his life. To his left and right, Amrothos and Erchirion wrapped an arm around his shoulder offering their support to their father and though Elphir sought solace in his wife's arms; his mind reached out to their father and comfort was given and taken.

Lothíriel had followed her father's movements till he reached his place and with him went a piece of her heart but it was soon again that her attentions fell back to the man before her. Feälef then continued with the ceremony, but now he turned to the language of his own people, not to dishonor their western allies but a test to the princess, if she is deserving of the crown and mantle she will bear on herself as queen. Éomer had argued this point thoroughly with his advisor, but the man would not be swayed. If she could not master their language and culture then what use will she be to her people, and Éomer saw the logic in it and conceded. He knew Éowyn and Helena had diligently coached her in the wedding rituals but still he was apprehensive.

"_Please join hands with your betrothed and listen to my blessing_." He said and Éomer's worried were reassured when without hesitation Lothíriel raised her hands for him to take. He saw in her eyes and smile that she would pass this test set before her and any other that should be placed in her way.

_Like a stone should your love be firm, like a star should your love be constant. _

_Let the powers of the mind and of the intellect guide you in your marriage, _

_Let the strength of your wills bind you together,_

_Let the power of love and desire make you happy and content,_

_And the strength of your dedication make you in separable._

_Have patience with each other for storms will come but they will pass quickly. _

"_Bride, if it be your wish for Groom to be bound to you, for only you have the right to decide then place the ribbon to his left wrist and say so at this time_," Feälef said to Lothíriel and handed her a blue ribbon.

"_It is my wish_," she replied in perfect Rohirric and tied the ribbon around Éomer's left wrist.

"_Groom, if it be your wish for Bride to be bound to you, for only you have the right to decide then place the ribbon to her left wrist and say so at this time," _Feälef then addressed Éomer, passing to him a pink ribbon.

"_It is my wish_," he replied and as she did, tied the ribbon to her left wrist.

"_Then repeat after me:_

_In the spirit of Divine Grace that resides in all our hearts, _

_By the life that courses through my blood _

_And the love that resides within my heart, _

_Take thee to my hand, my heart and my spirit_.

Éomer and Lothíriel who had taken hold of each other's hands, looked deep within the others love filled eyes and repeated the words in perfect unison, her beautiful alto mingling harmoniously with his deep baritone. Feälef satisfied with them, took from a nearby guard a chalice filled with sweet wine. He beckoned to Éomer to lift the veil from off Lothíriel's face.

"_May you drink your fill from the cup of love_," he said as he passed it to Éomer. Éomer held the chalice to Lothíriel's lips for her to sip then took the chalice from him and held it to his lips for him to sip before she handed it back to Feälef.

"By the power invested in me by Béma, I now pronounce you husband and wife. May your love so endure that it's flame remains a guiding light unto you," Feälef concluded the wedding ceremony in westernese and then stepped back so Éomer could reach out to draw his wife into his arms and under the golden roof of their home and before the eyes of their friends and family, Éomer bent to seal her lips with his own with a passion that was answered willingly by Lothíriel. Cries and whistles broke out within the city dwellers for they enjoyed the display of affection of their king and his wife and enthusiastic applause from the guests of the city. When the need to breath became too great, Éomer reluctantly pulled away and with great effort and will power did he release her to turn to his guests and subjects, his face radiant with happiness.

"Men of Rohan! Hear now the words of your king! One of beauty and fair heart has come to claim a place by my side as Queen of these lands. Here stands Lothíriel daughter of Imrahil, Ruling Prince of Dol Amroth. Shall she be queen and enter into the Golden Hall and dwell here?" he spoke loud for all to hear.

And all the hosts and all the people cried _yea_ in one voice.

Smiling to Lothíriel whose eyes were bright with unshed tears, her happiness like a beacon on her face, he turned to Feälef who held in his hands a casket and when opened revealed a beautiful tiara of several gold filament intertwined together, with intervals of emerald placed between each fiber. He then placed the circlet onto her raven tresses and around her shoulder he draped a mantle matching the color of his with fur lining the edges and held together by a gold fastening around her neck.

"I honor what you have given me, my king, and may I forever more represent my king and my people with grace and sovereignty befitting my position as Queen of Rohan. I shall respect thee, thy beliefs, thy people and thy ways as I respect myself," she said loudly, each word in perfect Rohirric and curtseyed before him.

"Rise, my queen, and may you rule long and blessed by my side," he said and brought her back to her feet. Placing her hand in the crook of his arm, he turned once again to those gathered at the steps of his home.

"Behold the Queen!" he cried and trumpets were blown and clear voices held in song rose above the cheering, a gift and praise to Éomer King and Lothíriel Queen of Rohan. Without taking their eyes of each other, the newly weds turned to enter the Golden Hall where inside were table of delicious food and beverages ready to be dined upon and as the oaken doors opened to admit their new resident, Lothíriel inhaled deeply for this was now her home, no longer will she cavort with the swans but learn to race with stallions, no longer will she be awaken by the smell of the salty sea but by the musk of hay and steed.

No longer was she Lothíriel, Princess of Dol Amroth, but Lothíriel, Queen of Rohan.

Lady of the Horse.

**The End.**

(11,000 words)

_Éomer became a great king, and being young when he succeeded Théoden he reigned for sixty-five years, longer than all their kings before him save Aldor the Old. __Such was the plenty and peace of his reign that he was given the surname Éadig, 'Blessed'. __In the War of the Ring he made the friendship of King Elessar, and Imrahil of Dol Amroth; and rode often to Gondor. In the last year of the Third Age he wedded Lothíriel, daughter of Imrahil and their son, Elfwine the Fair, had a striking likeness to his mother's father._

**(Appendix A (II & III), 'The Kings of the Mark')**

**A/N: '''Note that when Morwen was referred as Imrahil's kinswoman, the meaning in this text being related by place of birth and not by blood.**

**My most humble apologies to all those who have remained faithful to this story and I hope that this chapter was worth the long wait. **

**My deepest gratitude to JRR Tolkien for introducing me and so many others to his world with the publications of his Lord of the Rings trilogy.**

**The blessings were taken from the Pagan Wedding Vows and modified accordingly, and those indicated by italics were said in Rohirric.**

**And there you go, finally it is done. Please do not look for a sequel for there will be none.**


	17. authors note do read to avoid confusion

Hey people, how's it going… as you know, or don't, I've finally finished Lady of the Horse, yes, I can see the 'Phew finally' look going on there. What I've done however is modified the chapters by compressing two chapters to make one. There really isn't a solid reason for doing it, but I just liked the constancy of number of words for each chapters, because previously, some chapters are extremely long and some extremely short. Now they are all extremely long… ;-)…Also, I have taken the opportunity to correct any grammar, spelling or overall mistake that was committed in the first draft. I'm not saying that it is completely mistake free, but I do not have a beta and can only do the best I can. So in conclusion, instead of 25 chapters as previous, it is now only **17 chapters**. So therefore, the last chapter, chapter 25, is on chapter 16, just scroll downwards till you find it… it begins after Éowyn's wedding.

That's all really and once again, thank you for your patience and dedication to my story, I am truly grateful for any support or criticism and most definitely any reviews you have given me. Thank you again.

Azy. (TeleriMaiden)


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